Company
by Augusta Almeda
Summary: AU.Thanks to Albus,James is living in a boardinghouse over a restaunt called Company in the U.S. in a town called Springfield, making a new life with the girl everyone loves to hate and dealing with his own dark past.R&R.
1. Dumbledore's Plans

Author's Note: I am really hoping that this story will get some reviews, seeing as my other three lack something to be desired in that area. This is an AU crossover with the TV show Guiding Light. You do not have to have ever watched or even heard of the show to understand, as everything is explained in context and it is AU for the GL world as well. It might even be better if you haven't ever seen Guiding Light, so you don't get mixed up. I know the Marauder's and co. are a lot older here than they actually were, but it works best with the story. More will be told about Wright Interprises and the 'brand of magic' mentioned by Dumbledore later.

Augusta

Summary: James Potter has a charmed life, on the surface. He has a beautiful wife, a healthy son, is CEO of Wright Interprises(a family business left to him by his mother), and a close-knit group of family and friends. Then on Halloween, while he's away on a business trip, everything changes when his wife, Lily, is murdered, his mistress, Morgan, has been murdered, his son Harry has been sent away, and Albus Dumbledore, Morgan's meddling father, has simulated his death. He's forced to leave Britain and everything he's ever known, ending up in the American city of Springfield, Illinois(the GL version) with false citizenship papers prepared by Dumbledore, living in a boardinghouse over a restraunt called Company. It seems like it doesn't get any worse than this until he meets the extraordinary people who make up Springfield- the haughty Spauldings, the clannish Coopers, the fun-loving Lewises, the inbred Winslows, the feuding Marlers, and all the rest of the GL gang- who make a place for him in Springfield and Springfielder society, but before he can be truly happy in his new home, he has to face his past and his powers for what they are...

Disclaimer for ch. 1: I don't own James, Dumbledore, Rosmerta, the Three Broomsticks, the Marauders, the Marauder's Map, Lily, Petunia, Vernon, Muggles, Voldemort, Harry, Sirius, Remus, the prophecy, the Order, house-elves, Apparition/Disapparition, or any of the spells mentioned. If you recognize anything else, then let me know and I'll put it in the disclaimer. Otherwise, in this chapter it's mine, except the summary.

**Chapter One: Dumbledore's Plans**

Madam Haldanski smiled and extended her hand. " I approve of Sah-renna's choice," she said, her English heavy and choppy. "It is a pleasure to vork vith you."

James smiled back politely and shook hands. " And with you," he responded, careful to enunciate perfectly. He only had the advantage over the woman while they spoke English; he spoke Hungarian, but not much or well. " May I hope that the Hungarian division will answer to me as it did to my mother?" He saw that Madam Haldanski looked confused, mouthing his last words uncertainly. " As you answered to Serena," he clarified. Madam Haldanski wasn't able to pronounce his dead mother's name correctly, but that was one English word she knew without question.

Madam Haldanski grinned in sudden comprehension. " Yes, alvays." She bowed from her chair. " I vork for Vright Interprises. You are the new chairman. I vill do vot you say."

James barely kept his relief from showing in his face. Wright Interprises was one of the most important companies in the Wizarding World, and he had feared that the transfer of power to him after his mother's murder a month earlier would not be as smooth as he had hoped. So far, there had been no problems with any of the divisions. He bent over to close his briefcase. His hand slipped off the handle as a flash of the Sight took him for a moment, just long enough for him to see a man poking around some ruins, then standing at the foot of two graves, before he managed to fight it back. Visions of death and destruction were all too common these days, with Lord Voldemort rising. James could remember when they had all disregarded Voldemort. They were learning the price of that now. He snapped the clasps to and looked back to Madam Haldanski, hoping she hadn't noticed anything. " I believe that concludes our business for now, Madam. I will be in touch soon." He stood just as the door opened, admitting a house-elf.

" A message for you, Mr. Potter," it squeaked, holding out a sealed parchment. James took it and looked at the seal. A phoenix surrounded by roses. Dumbledore. If it had been Order business, it would have had two crossed wands behind it. James thought it was rather arrogant of Dumbledore to have his personal crest be so close to that of the Potter family, but it would have been inexcusable to adknowledge the insult. Breaking the seal, he read the short message.

_James,_

_I fear that events have gotten well out of hand here. DO NOT return home. Apparate to our merry sister's and take the road fromher ale roomto my house. I will be able to answer your questions about our money-hungry cousin there._

_Brian_

James looked to Madam Haldanski. " Will it offend you if I use magic to test this? " he asked. She shook her head no, and he waved his wand over the parchment. Nothing happened. It was real, not a forgery. He touched the tip of his wand to the bottom left hand corner and let it burn until it reached his fingers, and then threw it in the fireplace. " I fear I will have to be gone at once, Madam. My uncle isn't well. "

" Thot is all vight," Madam Haldanski reassured him. " Ven can I exvect to hear vrom you?"

" No more than two weeks," he said, bowed courteously, and disapparated.

The Three Broomsticks was empty and silent when James arrived. Frowning slightly, he pulled out his wand. Something wasn't right. The pub should have been bustling at this hour, not abandoned. He moved over to the wall and touched the correct points in the paneling, and a portion of the wall slid back to reveal a secret tunnel to Dumbledore's private quarters-the one hidden passage he hadn't told his fellow Marauder's about when they were making the Map.

He thought about Dumbledore's cryptic message as he hurried along the tunnel. Clever of the old man, to use one of his middle names instead of his distinctive first. Brian was an ordinary name. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of Brians in the world. Their ' merry sister' was Rosmerta, the owner of the Three Broomsticks, of course, and herale room the Broomsticks itself. 'The road' was the very passage he was in now. As for the 'money-hungry cousin'...James repressed a shudder. Only one person that could be- Voldemort. Voldemort was somehow linked to him not being able to go home, but having to go to Dumbledore first. _I fear that events have gotten well out of hand here._ That didn't sound promising. James resolved not to think the worst until he had some kind of proof.

Dumbledore wasn't alone when James reached his sitting room-not exactly. The old man was bent over a cradle, making soothing sounds. He straightened almost immediatly, though. " Ah, James," he said. He looked exhausted. " Your son is as temperamental as you. I've had a rather harrowing expirience trying to get him to sleep. I suppose he doesn't like being taken out of his nursery in the middle of the night by a stranger."

" What's going on, Dumbledore?"

" I believe you'll be thirty-five in a few weeks, won't you?"

James gaped at Dumbledore. " What does that have to do with anything?"

" That would make Morgan and Lily both thirty-four...not even middle-aged, as we count time..." Dumbledore looked as if he were musing for a moment. Then he sighed, passed a hand over his eyes, and sat. "Sit down, James," he said, indicating the desired spot. James did as he was told warily; the habit of obeying Dumbledore was strong and the habit of not trusting him stronger. For once, Dumbledore went straight to the point. " Lily and Morgan are both dead." James felt all the blood leave his head, and Dumbledore thrust a shot of Bourbon into his hand that he drank gratefully. Dumbledore went on without waiting for him to reply. " I have arranged for it to appear that it was you who died instead of Morgan-even up to modifying little Harry's memory, a process I think might have frightened him rather badly."

" What happened?" he managed.

" Voldemort," Dumbledore said simply. " I managed to retrive Harry from the house, and I have Hagrid remembering doing it. A useful trick. He will pick Harry up from Nicolas and Perenelle's tomorrow and take him to his aunt and uncle."

James felt as if he had been hit over the head with a sledgehammer. Morgan and Lily, dead. Lily Evans Potter was his faithful and trusted wife, the mother of his only living son. Morgan Dumbledore was the one great love of his life, the woman he couldn't marry but could never give up. Lily and Morgan, Morgan and Lily. Those two and Harry were at the center of his whole world. And now he had lost all three. Desperate, he called mentally, _Annamaria!_ If anyone could help now, it would be his twin sister, Anne. The barrier between their minds thinned, but she couldn't hear him and all he could get from her was an outpouring of grief so wild it frightened him. Dumbledore had to be blocking him, somehow. Anne had been able to reach him when she had been trapped in her own villa in France and he had been being held prisoner by Teresa in a Swiss mental hospital.

He had to think rationally. Harry took first priority at the moment- you could care for the living or weep for the dead. Anne wasn't capable of doing anything besides indulging in maddening grief for him at the moment. There was his half-sister Teresa and half-brother Phillip, but he wasn't sure if either of them would willingly take in a child they would consider a half-blood and inferior and raise him as their own. That left his younger sister, Elizabeth. Elizabeth had married Remus, and his lycanthropy did present...problems, but they had a daughter of their own and it worked out just fine. Yes, Remus and Elizabeth would do the best at taking care of his son.

" Elizabeth and Remus," James said, trying to look at it all objectively. It wasn't working. " Anne and Sirius are his legal guardians, but with them living apart and the hell Anne's going through thinking I'm dead...better Elizabeth and Remus."

" I did not mean one of your sisters and her husband," Dumbledore said quietly. " I meant Lily's sister Petunia and her husband Vernon."

" Muggles."

" Harry will be safest there, James. Lily died to protect him. Her blood kin can give him a protection that you and your family never can, even with your-ah-brand of magic." James noticed Dumbledore shudder slightly, but visibly. He had learned to control his own shudders years ago, but they still fought to come when _that _was mentioned.

He looked up at Dumbledore. " You do realize that I could use my 'brand of magic', as you call it, and kill you right now for your meddling?"

Dumbledore looked back at him as frankly. " Are you?"

" No."

" I didn't think so."

" Dammit, Albus!" James exclaimed vehemently. " How did the boy survive?"

" Lily sacrificed herself for him. That is a powerful magic- a powerful charm." James nodded. Charms had always been Lily's specialty. "Harry threw down Voldemort when Voldemort attempted to kill him." Dumbledore threw it out as if it were an afterthought. James jumped to his feet.

" _What!?_"

Dumbledore nodded. " Remarkable, isn't it? We have all been working so hard and so long on this, and now a one-year-old boy has overthrown him for us."

James crossed the room and looked down into the cradle. His son would be the spitting image of him one day, but for Lily's eyes and now one other thing. A lightning bolt shaped cut showed clearly on the boy's forehead in the light from the lamps. " That's where..."

Dumbledore nodded. " The Killing Curse hit him and rebounded."

" So we have a reprieve," James said, his jaw clenching painfully. " For how long? Five years? Two? "

" Perhaps as many as twenty," Dumbledore said, unpertrubed by his former pupil's bitter tone.

" Don't be irrational," James returned, irritated. Twenty years indeed! Voldemort was many things-mad came to mind-but stupid was't one of them. He would return well before twenty years. That was one thing about optimists that drove James half insane. They were always irrational. Dumbledore didn't rebuke him; there was no doubt in James's mind that Dumbledore assumed he had been plunged immediatly into mourning and was not kindly disposed to encouragement. In reality, he wasn't feeling anything yet.

" As I am now dead," he said at length, " what am I going to do?"

James saw something in Dumbledore's face relax. " Thank you for seeing the necessity of things being the way they are, James."

" I have the Sight," James reminded him. " I know better than anyone that prophecy has to be fulfilled, and you told me and Lily the prophecy about him. Now, what am I supposed to do now, since you're playing puppet master with my life yet again?"

Dumbledore handed him a packet of official-looking papers. " Records and memories are being modified as we speak," Dumbledore said. " As soon as your funeral is over in three days, you'll be going to America, where you have, according to these papers and some records and memories, been a citizen for two years and voted in the last election." Dumbledore looked quite pleased with himself for devising this. It was then that it hit James that Dumbledore wasn't even reacting to Morgan's death-his own daughter. Dumbledore was tougher than he'd though.

" You are a piece of work, aren't you?" He demanded.

Dumbledore just handed him a cup of tea.


	2. The Funeral

Author's Note: This chapter just doesn't seem to get along with me. This is the second repost I've done. Fortunately for those who've already read it, only a minor character's name is changed and that's explained in a later AN.

Augusta

Disclaimer: If you can trace it back to the Harry Potter world or the Guiding Light world, it does not belong to me.

**Chapter Two: The Funeral**

James was deeply thankful that it was drizzling rain the day of his funeral. It gave him the perfect excuse to keep the hood of his cloak up. No one could be allowed to recognize him- dead men generally didn't turn up to see themselves put in the family crypt. Lily had been buried the day before, in a common grave among her father's family. He had gone, but had stayed too far off for any of her mourning kindred and in-laws to notice the 'stranger' intruding on their privacy.

Dumbledore was here, calmly moving around through the milling mass of his family. For all of the man's morals and high-mindedness, he still had enough hypocrisy in him to act the part of the grieving friend. James wished he hadn't come, but it wasn't as if he was going to be doing much talking- he just so happened to be a woman lying in a casket! If the woman who was being entombed under his name hadn't been Morgan, he would have found it damned amusing.

" Hush, Lizzy, darling," he heard a soothing voice say, not far to his left. Remus stood there, holding a sobbing Elizabeth against him. " Hush, hush." Little Regina, upset by her mother's crying, wrapped her thin arms around her father's knees and started crying in good earnest too. Remus looked like a man being pecked to death by chickens.

" What're we going to do without him?" Elizabeth asked, her voice muffled by Remus's robes. "Anne's not in the state to take care of herself, never mind take James's place, and me!" That brought another bout of sobs. Most of the people around her were looking awkward, as if they wanted to say something but didn't know what.

He looked around. Anne was standing near the front, accepting condolences in the widow's place. She looked old and half out of her mind with grief. The black mourning dress didn't suit her. There were some who looked at her contemptuosly, and some who wouldn't meet her eyes. James knew why. His best mate, Sirius, had been arrested in connection with his murder. Anne and Sirius were married, and Anne was expecting a baby. There were some who no doubt thought Anne had been in on it, and many couldn't get past the stigma attatched to the wife of a convict. He wished there was something he could do for his sister, but there was nothing, in his circumstances.

All his friends and family were there-even India, he was surprised to see. His eldest half-sister had left home when she was nineteen and never looked back. His family were not given to shows of affection, but now...they didn't want physical and emotional contact with each other, they _needed_ it. They were hugging, crying on each other's shoulders...he had never thought to live to see it. His mother's family had much less stiffness in their embraces and much less restraint with their tears. The Wrights didn't care that anyone saw them mourn the loss of one of their own. James realized he was still watching Anne-trying to memorize his twin so he could always remember her for the rest of his long life-and made a sudden move toward her before he remembered himself when he saw her face. Anne was sitting poker-stiff, her face blank, tears pouring down her face. In all the years, he had never seen Anne cry.

Her jaw dropped and her lovely dark eyes widened. Her mouth moved, and he knew her well enough to read her lips. _James?_ She had recognized him. Ignoring all protocol, she half-ran to him.

" James?" she whispered. " Is it you? Am I dreaming?"

" It's me," he said. " Oh, Anne, I'm so sorry- I didn't know Dumbledore had you believing I was dead until it was too late-"

" I don't care, it's you, oh, my brother-" she threw her arms around him. " I knew you wouldn't leave me."

" I'm going to have to," he told her. " I have to leave after the funeral. It's Morgan in the coffin, Anne. She died and Dumbledore pulled a ruse on Hagrid and Sirius to make them believe it was me. Sirius wasn't the traitor-it was Peter."

" Peter!" she hissed. " James, he's being acclaimed as a national hero for trying to duel with Sirius this morning and getting blown to smithereens! I've had ten women call me a Death Eater and accusing me of conspiring with Sirius to murder you and Lily and Peter!"

" To hell with them. You'll know the truth, Anne. I'll be in this place in America-this Springfield-but I'll always be with you here-" he touched his head- " and here." He touched his heart. She caught him in another hug, and this time he thought his ribs were going to break.

" I'm no more on being sentimental than you are, but oh God, I love you," Anne murmured. " We have to tell Elizabeth. We can't have her go on thinking you're dead." Without waiting for an answer, Anne raised her head and called over, " Elizabeth! Come over here, it's Cousin Thomas! He's come back from Denmark for- to see us." James couldn't help but admire his sister. There was no way that anyone could tell she didn't still 'know' he was dead. She was also very clever. Dumbledore had been giving the two of them funny looks, but he relaxed, now. They did have a cousin named Thomas who they were all extremely fond of who had come here today for James's funeral. Dumbledore could dig till he died and find no proof that James had disobeyed orders and left Hogwarts or that he had let his sisters know he was alive.

Elizabeth made a brave attempt to smile when she got to them. " I'm glad you could make it, Tom-" she started, then gasped when she saw his face.

" It's all right, Liz," Anne whispered hastily. " It's really James, he's alive-Dumbledore faked his death. It's Morgan who actually died."

" Oh my God," Elizabeth whispered. " I can't-"

" What you can't do is tell anyone who I am, Isabella," he told her. That appeared to be what made her believe him, by her face-he had always called Anne Annamaria and Elizabeth Isabella, a tribute to his years in Italy. "Don't tell anyone-not even Remus. No one can know I'm still alive."

" Why not?" Elizabeth demanded. " If the old man wants you dead, we can deal with him, James."

It was Anne who explained. " The Enemy-Voldemort-believes James is dead, Liz. If James is dead, then Voldemort will not move against him. Yeah, little Harry overthrew Voldemort, but for how long? Harry's the one who'll save us, but he won't be able to do it without James, and you can stake your life on that."

" Oh, God," Elizabeth groaned. " This is way out of my league."

" Just go on acting the part of the mourning sister," James told her. " I won't be able to see either of you again before I go, so-" he struggled with the words for a moment. " Goodbye and I love you both," he said stiffly. Elizabeth started crying again.

A priest stepped up near James's coffin. " I believe it's time to begin," he said in a reedy voice. James was startled to recognize it as belonging to Father Edward, his confessor.

" I have to go-I'm supposed to speak first," Anne said. " Don't leave without speaking to me again." She let go of his hand with the utmost reluctance and went to the front.

Father Edward ran through the ritual prayers, then asked, " Is there anyone who would like to speak?" Anne stood and went over. She was pale, but composed.

" You all know that James was my brother," she began, her voice cracking a little. " Some of you might not have known that we were twins. I knew, the other night, as soon as he was dead-I felt it." Anne straightened her back slightly and looked around at them all with a hint of contempt.

" We here all know that my husband was the Judas who betrayed my brother and Lily to their deaths. There is nothing I can do to avenge that wrong- the Ministry has already arrested him. As for the murderer himself, though..." Anne's face crumpled. She snatched her glove off and laid her thin hand on the coffin.

" I'll swear here before you all," she said fiercely, " that I will not rest until everyone who owed allegiance to Voldemort is dead and in hell where they belong! And if Voldemort himself ever returns, I'll deal with him in kind! My brother was always there for me, no matter what, even when it meant risking his own life, and he loved me as much as I loved him. I'd be some kind of sister if I wouldn't stick by him now. James, you'll be avenged or I'll be dead trying." Anne looked straight at him when she said it. She sat down without further comment.

Elizabeth went up after Anne. " I-I don't really know what to say," she began uncertainly. " I mean, you all know I loved my brother- we all did." Elizabeth hesitated, then went on. " Our family-well, you know about our family's problems. We Potters haven't earned the most desirable reputation, but even when we were little, James always wanted to change that-it made him do some things that if he hadn't been our father's son would have gotten him disowned. He let me marry Remus, let our mother come out of mourning for our father years too early,protected Anne from her ex-husband, worked with the Ministry and Dumbledore, married a Muggle-born, that sort of thing." Elizabeth gave a small, shaky laugh. " James shocked and infuriated every person in our family-and he was what held us together." She paused, searching for words. Lizzy had always been shy, never a eloquent speaker. "Before the War, our family was like an expensive vase, whole and making a good display for anyone who saw it. Then, the War came and it was like someone threw that vase onto cobblestones, shattered it to pieces. We couldn't be the way we had always been, and it broke us. We didn't know how to change. The pieces were all fitted back together, though, and James was the glue that held them all together. I-I don't know what we're going to do without him." She had started to cry yet again. "I know they say it'll get easier with time, but I don't know. I'll always miss him, I can guarantee that much. I'm not good at speaking in front of crowds, so I hope you'll all forgive me." She hurried back to her chair.

James smiled grimly. People could surprise you, sometimes. He wouldn't have expected that kind of speech or such an apt similie from Elizabeth, though he couldn't testify to the truth of the metaphor. Phillip went after Elizabeth. He was sobbing so hard that James, as far from the crypt as he could get, couldn't make out his words. Phillip had always been a 'gentle giant', for lack of a better term-the primary reason their father had put James in Phillip's place in the succession. He gave a longer monologue than his half-sisters, and a good many people patted him on the shoulder on his way back to his chair. Teresa was cool and to the point, saying very briefly that he'd be missed.

_No one would ever think such a devoted older half-sister as Resa would have tried to stick a knife in my ribs more times than I can count, _he thought sarcastically. Teresa wanted power, and he was or had been in her way. He feared for Harry, but there was little he could do but hope Dumbledore would protect the boy from her.

Remus spoke of their long friendship, and Dumbledore said something, James wasn't sure what. He hardly cared what the old hypocrite said anymore. What use did a 'dead man' have for a man's words, anyway? He was thinking crazy, but it didn't matter. Nothing much did, now. There was nothing left to carry on for.

Father Edward was just about to begin the formal ceremony when India stood. " I want to say something," she said loudly. Remus grabbed her by the arm, but she shook him off and marched to the front. James frowned a little. India was a nun, but that was hardly a habit she was wearing. She also had an uncharacteristically ugly look on her face, and her neck was too long and her hair too pale. _Was_ it even India? That question was not long in the answering.

" Not many of you know me," she said. " My name's Petunia Dursley. I'm his sister-in-law." She jerked her head at the coffin. " It was my sister you buried yesterday. I've had their stupid freak brat dumped on me without a pence to pay for his keep, and I'm sorry to break up the nice little sentiments from his beloved family and friends, but there's only one thing I want to say to James Potter: You got what you deserved, you bastard! If there was any justice you and my freak sister would have gotten worse!" Dumbledore jumped in front of Phillip in the very nick of time to keep Phillip from probably wringing the stupid woman's neck. Two of his cousins had grabbed her-she was apparently trying to kick 'his' coffin over. " I'll have my say!" Petunia screeched, jerking loose from Henry and Robert and falling backwards into the tomb.

" You just had to have the last word, didn't you, you son of a bitch?" Petunia demanded of the coffin. _I always do,_ James thought. Petunia stared down her nose at everyone, then stomped out.

" I don't care whose sister she is," Phillip was saying with barely controlled fury. " I am going to make sure she knows whose brother she was insulting, and that she never forgets it!"

_Poor Phillip,_ he thought. _Always so eager to defend me. You can't defend me anymore, bro. I've grown up now._

" I cannot allow you to harm Mrs. Dursley," Dumbledore said, still calm. " Please sit down, or I'll have you removed. As you are one of the pallbearers, that would be most inconvenient." Phillip sat, murder plainly on his mind.

Father Edward looked rather shell-shocked. " If there are no more speakers," he wheezed at last, "then let us go on." He began the prayers. James bent his head, but didn't pray. It would have been unnatural, to pray for your soul at your funeral. Then, with no further reason to delay, Phillip, Remus, Dumbledore, and Anne performed one last service for 'him' by easing 'his' coffin into 'his' tomb and sealing it. The crowd began to disperse, with Anne and Elizabeth requesting to be alone with their brother. Dumbledore went into the house for a drink. James laid low until he was sure it was safe, then went to his sisters.

" That was the wierdest thing we've ever done," Anne said fervently.

" I have to go, girls," he told them. " I think I can stay in touch, though. Anne, d'you think you could reach me across the Atlantic Ocean?"

Anne grinned. " Child's play, darling. I could do it in my sleep."

" Dumbledore probably won't block us much longer. He won't think we can talk across that much distance. "

" I agree," Anne said.

" You two mean to outfox the Fox?" Elizabeth asked skeptically. The Fox was his family's name for old Dumbledore.

" Right on the money, Lizzy honey," James told her. " Don't worry about it-we've pulled it off before." He put a hand on each of their shoulders. "Remember, no matter what, we're still the Unholy Trinity. No one and nothing can keep us apart forever. We'll meet again." He allowed them both to hug him, then disapparated back to the Hogwarts gates and managed to make it back well before Dumbledore.

" Your funeral was an interesting affair," Dumbledore remarked. " Your sister-in-law can be quite vehement when she's roused, not to mention profane."

" That would be Petunia," James said. " She's always the same. What happened?"


	3. Welcome to Springfield

Author's Note: Yeah, I know that Danny and Marina aren't really engaged and Lizzie hasmessedup Company on the show, so don't get on me about that one if you watch the show. Just enjoy.

Augusta

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or places in this chapter.

**Chapter Three: Welcome to Springfield**

James sat down on a bench outside a building. This Springfield was like no city he had ever seen before-he was already hopelessly lost. Dumbledore hadn't thought further ahead that getting him here, and he didn't have a clue as to where the local wizards would be-or if there were any. He was starting to have a suspicion that there were not. A tall, dark woman and a man were walking past him towards the building.

" Bill, you know I have a meeting-"

" Olivia, if you don't have time to stop and eat a Buzz Burger, then you seriously need a vacation," the man said firmly, and steered the woman into the place. Probably her husband. Too bad, she was quite nice-looking.

_All right. Time to start working out where to go and what to do._ Looking to his left, he could see a sign hanging from a flower-covered post. Company. Must be the name of the place. From Bill and Olivia's conversation, it was a restraunt. Restraunt owners typically knew a lot about the city they worked in; Company would be as good a place as any to begin. He walked in.

It was a nice enough place, he had to admit. Everything seemed to be done in colors that suggested a man had a hand in it-wood and green and brown, with some sort of low stone fireplace. If that was on the Floo Network, he could have just stumbled into the right place, but he wasn't taking any chances. The couple he had seen were sitting in a far corner, whispering. A girl stood behind the bar wiping some glasses. She smiled when he sat down. She looked a lot like Lily.

" Hi," she said brightly, in an American accent. " You must be new in town, because I've never seen you here before. I'm Marina Cooper."

" James Potter," he replied, wondering why on earth someone would name their kid after the Muggle word for a place you tied up boats. Marina giggled.

" New to the country, too, by the sounds of it. Only other guy in town with an accent is Edmund Winslow-him and Cassie were here last night making the arrangements for their engagement party." Marina was obviously inclined to talk away, and he stood nothing to lose by listening to her rattle on. " Stick around here for a while, and you'll know everyone in Springfield soon, Mr. Potter." Marina seemed to expect an answer to that one, so he gave her one.

" I am planning to stay in Springfield for a while," he offered. " Speaking of which, do you know of anywhere that would offer lodgings?" He paused; he didn't know what Americans would call it. "An inn?" he ventured." Marina seemed to understand.

" We run a boardinghouse here," she told him. " I can set you up."

" Thanks. By the way, who's 'we'?"

" This place belongs to my grandpa-he's Buzz Cooper." Marina paused as if expecting that name to mean something. When it didn't, she went on. " You can meet Grandpa later. He opened up this place after our family's diner on Fifth Street burned down, before I was born. See that?" She pointed to a picture frame with what he recognized as being a one-dollar bill in it. " That was the first dollar Grandpa ever made at Company. My dad-Frank Cooper, chief of police- and my Aunt Harley had it framed for him."

" Your family must be important in this town," James commented.

" Oh, yeah," Marina said, as if being important was of no significance. " We Coopers and the Spauldings-" Marina sneered slightly at the mention of the name 'Spaulding'- " get more attention that any of the other families because of our War. They asked for it, we gave it."

_Nice move, Albus,_ James thought. _Land me in a city with a turf war going on, not to mention that she makes it sound like everything has to do with who you're related to. Exactly what I needed, old friend._ Marina must have noticed his face, because she smiled reassuringly.

" Don't worry about not knowing anyone- you'll forget you ever lived anywhere else before long. How did Edmund put it? 'Once a Springfielder takes you in, the whole town does'?"

James chuckled wryly. " Am I to assume that you've taken me in?"

" Yeah. Call it my good deed for the day."

" It is," he told her. " I'm about out of places left to go. Got ran out of England by my wife, got ran out of the South by my wife's family."

" You married an American?"

" No, but she had family over here. " Albus had decided it would be best to say that Lily had relatives in the South.

" Had?"

" She's dead," he said shortly. " She died, and I left. " Marina's eyes widened.

" Oh, I'm so sorry-I can be really, really tactless."

" It doesn't matter." It didn't, he realized. He could scarcely remember what Lily looked like, and it had only been a month since she died.

There was a slightly awkward silence for a moment, then Marina grinned. " Danny!" A man about James's age came over and kissed Marina. " This is my finace, Danny Santos," she said to James. " Danny, meet James Potter. He's new in town, from England."

" Welcome to Springfield," Danny said, extending a hand. " What brings you to town?"

" A friend told me this was a good place to settle," James replied. " My wife died, and I left England. Her people weren't exactly welcoming down South, and an old school friend suggested this town."

" Oh, I'm sorry to hear about your wife," Danny said, flinching slightly. " I lost my wife in an explosion not long ago."

" The same killed Lily," James said. " House blew up. Something to do with the gas pipes."

" Michelle ended up on the wrong end of a mob hit," Danny said, as if he'd rather not think about it.

" We share something in common. That was how my father died."

" Ok, you two, snap out of it," Marina chided, clapping her hands at them. " You two can get together sometime and talk about all the bad things, but not around me, got it?"

" Yes ma'am!" Danny saluted with mock fear.

James smiled to himself. He might not do badly in this town after all.


	4. Dinah

Author's Note: I have a reviewer! Please keep reading and telling me what you think! Response to your reviews at the bottom!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that can be traced back to the Harry Potter universe or the Guiding Light universe.

**Chapter Four: Dinah**

James woke up and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling. Pure instinct made him go for his wand before he remembered. He hadn't been captured and he wasn't in prison. This was Company- his new 'home', as decreed by Dumbledore. He permitted himself to breathe. A faint voice spoke in his head. _James?_

_Hullo, Annamaria. Glad to see that this worked._

_Ditto. It's awful here without you. That old bastard Barty Crouch came and tried to interrogate me and Elizabeth yesterday- said he thought we were in on the plot to kill you._

It was by sheer force of will that James refrained from thinking of any number of painful and possibly fatal things he'd like to do to Bartemius Crouch just then. _What happened?_

He got the impression that Anne was laughing. _Remus gave him a black eye and a broken nose to remember us by, I hexed him, and Elizabeth used every word our mother ever told us not to on him as she showed him the door. _

_Lizzy talking like you after the First Battle of the Ministry?_ he teased. _I find that hard to believe._

_Shut up, James._

_As you wish. What's been going on besides that?_

_You and Lily's murders are still being investigated-we all know who did it, but not who was in on it. Both of you are much better loved by the Wizarding populace dead than you were alive. They only seem to realize how much the two of you did for them now that you're gone._ His sister's 'voice' was heavy with the irony of the situation. _Sirius has been thrown in Azkaban-no trial, nothing. Dumbledore did testify publicly against him, though. _There might have been a hint of pain in Anne's tone then, but he couldn't be sure. Anne and Sirius had always claimed that they didn't care for each other at all, they were just married because they didn't want James to get up-one on them by marrying Lily.

_Wonder what Dumbledore's planning with that?_ James wondered 'aloud'.

_I don't know,_ Anne confessed honestly._ He never does anything without a reason, though. _She paused. _Oh, shit. The servants are starting to wake, and it's pretty well known the look I have when I'm talking to you like this. I'll be back-for lack of a better term-later._ Anne retreated, and he was alone in his head again. He chuckled grimly to himself. Dumbledore had asked him before he left if there was any way that he and Anne would be able to communicate across the Atlantic Ocean, and he had told the old man that they wouldn't even be able to tell if the other was alive at such a distance. Dumbledore was known for a Legilimens, but Occulmency had always been one of James's strengths. So had lying like a dog.

A quick glance at the clock told him that it was far too early for anyone else to be up, but there was no probability that he'd be able to go back to sleep. Just as well; he needed to think. He hadn't been able to think things all the way through since he left Madam Haldanski what seemed a lifetime ago.

The fellowship of the Marauders was broken. It was curiously painful to think about. He had always known that even such friends as they had been wouldn't be able to hold to the promises they had made or the loyalty between them remain forever, but he supposed at some point he had started to believe that his surrogate brothers and he truly would stand together to the bitter end, and go down together when they met their Maker. It had been stupid, a foolish dream that had held for twenty-four long years, but now it was over. Sirius was in prison for a crime he didn't commit, Remus was landed with Elizabeth and Anne and not a friend in the world, Peter was sworn to the Dark Lord, and James himself was so far from all of them, an exile in a strange land. If the Marauders had to break, they should not have broken like that, but Fate was seldom a kind mistress.

Control of Wright Enterprises should have passed to Anne, in accordance to his will. Morgan's inheritance-a division to herself and shares in all-would have gone to her maternal half-sister Melanie, also one of his ex-girlfriends, who would use Morgan's name in her transactions since no one knew that Morgan was dead. Elizabeth and Remus both would have inherited fixed amounts, the same amount as Harry, and a certain percentage from the company to keep them up. If by some happy chance Harry ended up with Remus and Elizabeth, they would make a oddly grouped but undeniably wealthy little family. The unusual turns of events that had lead up to and followed his 'death' would cause some problems, but he trusted Anne to deal with them. Even if he had been dead, Anne would have remembered that she was a Potter and a professional first and a sister second. None of them would want for anything, he could guarantee that. James had always prided himself on taking care of his own.

He bit his lip unconciously as a more complex problem than fate and numbers came to mind: Why had Dumbledore gone to so much trouble to make the world believe he was dead then not actually kill him? It hardly made sense, and would be virtually impossible to keep secret forever, unless the old man had a way to modify Voldemort's memory, which was ridiculous. He could understand why Dumbledore would want him dead, but that was _all_ he understood. He lay there puzzling over it for maybe half an hour before he realized that all he was doing was keeping himself from thinking about what was really important- Morgan and Lily.

_Not now,_ he thought automatically. _Now is not the time to remember them, not when I need all my wits about me. I'll think about them later-later, when it's been long enough that I can handle it and I don't have to worry about surviving from day to day in this town. The restraunt'll be opening now anyway._

It was only then that he realized that he had decided to stay in Springfield.

* * *

A few tired-looking customers were already sitting around tables drinking coffee when James made his way downstairs. Marina looked up from brewing a fresh pot to give him a quick smile that he returned. He sat down and ordered tea from one of the waitresses, a blonde who looked like she was about to fall out of the green shirt that seemed to be the Company uniform. A few minutes later, she returned with a glass of what he recognized as iced tea. _Americans,_ he thought in exasperation. Any English waitress would have understood at once. He explained it very patiently to the girl, who went back, grumbling something about picky customers. A loud voice shattered the sleepy quiet of Company, clearly infuriated.

" Screw you, Jeffrey! You've got no power over me!"

The speaker was a brunette, a woman who looked somewhat like Morgan at a distance. _They probably don't look a thing alike up close_, he thought firmly. Being totally dependant on glasses to see had its disadvantages, and taking one person for another was one of them. A tall man in need of both a haircut and a shave stomped in behind her.

" Oh yeah, Dinah? Who was it that got you out of prison, or have you forgotten that?" He was red-faced and clearly as angry as the woman.

" I paid you back for that by letting you make me your cross between a whore and a Cassie Winslow doll," Dinah snarled. " I don't owe a _damn_ thing to you, Jeffrey O'Neill. If there's any owing, you owe me one!"

A man who had been behind the bar walked over to them. " Is there a problem?" he asked. He didn't look like a man to tolerate anyone disturbing the peace around him. A veteran, maybe. He had the hardened, cautious look. James knew it well-he saw it on his own face every morning in the mirror.

" Not for much longer, Buzz, " Jeffrey said tensely, identifying the man as Marina's grandfather, the owner of Company. " I was driving Miss Marler here over for her morning coffee because her car broke down, there's evidence why you shouldn't play the Good Samaritan to women who you know are freakin' lunatics." Apparently satisfied that his comments had been digested by Dinah Marler and Buzz Cooper as he intended, Jeffrey left. Buzz resumed his place behind the bar, and Dinah slammed her purse onto the table next to James's as the blonde finally came back with the proper kind of tea. About two minutes later, she spoke.

" Life sucks."

" I'll drink to that," James replied.

" Your girlfriend screw you over?" Dinah demanded.

" No. She kicked the bucket."

" Wish Jeffrey would." She turned slightly. " Hey, Marina!"

" What?" Marina called back.

" Give me a margarita, and don't give me any crap about not drinking in the morning. I'm already a whore, so what the hell do I care if one more sin is on my soul?"

" The customer is always right," Marina replied, with a hint of disapproval. James saw the corners of Buzz's mouth fold down. Dinah obviously wasn't one of Springfield's most beloved citizens. She drank most of her margarita in two swallows.

" Ever just want to get so drunk you forget everything?" she asked James.

" On a daily basis."

" New in town? Being new here's enough to make anyone think that life sucks. Everyone's so nice until you're a part of Springfield that it makes you want to hurl."

" Some people call it courtesy."

" I've never been a very courteous person-you probably worked that out while I was fighting with Jeffrey." James agreed with that, but took a drink of his tea to avoid answering directly. No need to be rude, when he was the newcomer and she was the local. " So, what're you doing in Springfield when the rest of the world is out there?"

James studied her for a moment. He had been right-hair colorwas the only physical trait Dinah shared with Morgan. As for other traits, that would have to wait. There was something calculating in Dinah's blue eyes, something that put him in mind of himself. " I'm here because I have nowhere else to go," he said vaugely.

Dinah's laugh was hard with bitterness. " Me either."

**A reply to my reviewer:**

**I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so much. The pieces of James's past start to come together after his first Springfield Christmas, but for an idea, see the summaries in my profile. Next chapter up today, maybe ch. 6 too. Updates will be close together for a while.**

**Augusta**


	5. What Lies In Dreams

Author's Note: I couldn't resist that soap opera crack from Marina, they do it all the time on the shows. Sorry if this seems a little strange. Yes, the implication that Tory Granger is related to Hermione Granger is correct in this universe.

Augusta.

Disclaimer: All I own is Anne, Elizabeth, and Teresa. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling and the people at CBS.

**Chapter Five: What Lies In Dreams**

Before the week was out, James had become the aquaintance of, according to Marina, almost every person who was anybody anyway in Springfield. He had been introduced to the Spauldings-Alan, Alexandra, Phillip, Beth, and Lizzie-who reminded him strongly of his own manipulative family, had met up with the Bauers and recieved a welcome to the city and a business card in the event that he ever needed medical care, had talked politics with the Mayor, Ross Marler, who just so happened to be Dinah's father, had been interrogated by Jeffrey O'Neill-Dinah's boyfriend, the District Attorney- to ensure he wasn't on the run for anything, been offered a job by Bill and Olivia Lewis in their company they had started, and that was only in the first three days. Marina hadn't exaggerated when she called Company the social center of Springfield. There were, however, two more people he had to meet before he was officially a Springfielder, according again to his personal welcome wagon Marina, and they were Reva and Josh Lewis. On Saturday, they finally made their appearance at Company.

James was sitting having coffee with Dinah, who had had yet another spectacular fight with Jeffrey that ended in her telling him it was over and to go to hell, when Marina leaned over the bar. " James!" she hissed. " It's Josh and Reva-I'll do the introductions, they like me. I used to go out with their son Shayne."

" It's the psychic and the construction lord," Dinah muttered.

" What?"

" Reva used to be a psychic, and Josh co-owns Lewis Construction with his brother Billy- the one talking to Alex Spaulding and Buzz Cooper yesterday at three, Bill's father." James nodded thanks, and looked over at the woman who had just sat down next to him.

Reva Lewis might have been a beauty when she was young, and there was still nothing unpleasant to look at about her tanned face. Highlighted blonde hair and blue eyes both looked like they belonged on a younger woman, and there was something about the way she was smiling that put him in mind of his mother. He had loved his mother as much as he feared his father growing up, and seeing her smile on Reva's face was peculiar. _I am not going to let myself start remembering Mama,_ he told himself sternly. _Nothing good can come of it._ He turned his mind back to the business at hand.

" Good morning, Reva, Josh," Dinah said, nodding to the woman and the man beside her.

Reva's smile was a little strained. " Good morning, Dinah." The man-Josh- smiled politely and nodded. Reva turned that penetrating blue gaze back to James. " Am I correct in assuming that you're James Potter?" Reva asked, her tone friendly.

" That would be me."

" You've been causing a lot of talk in this town," Reva continued. " We don't get very many newcomers in Springfield who don't have something tying them here-some family, in-laws, something. You're the first real newcomer since- I don't remember, Josh, do you?" She turned to her husband expectantly.

" Tory Granger," Josh supplied. " She was that nut job who seduced Ross Marler and locked Blake Marler in a basement or something like that."

" Oh-I remember her. What happened to her, anyway?"

" They threw her in Ravenwood," Dinah chimed in. James vaugely remembered hearing someone say that Ravenwood was an asylum- Phillip Spaulding had just been released from it. " Daddy told me. She tricked them into thinking she was sane and went to England-had a brother living there with his wife and kid."

" We don't have as many crazy people around here as it sounds like, Mr. Potter," Josh Lewis said reassuringly, apparently aware that people not considering having crazy people escape from the local asylum something to remember was hardly a good way to represent one's town. " The only Springfielder I know of in Ravenwood now is Annie Dutton, and the only two who need to be are Phillip and Lizzie Spaulding."

" Not quite right, Josh," Marina said from the bar. " It's Lizard Spaulding, not Lizzie."

" Hey, now, be nice," Reva chided. " Just because someone is something isn't a reason to say it out loud." Marina laughed.

" I spent about a year in a Swiss asylum myself," James said. " My sister Teresa managed to convince everyone I was off my rocker-she was after the family business, but she never got her hands on it. My sister Elizabeth held my proxy till my other sister Anne and her husband managed to sucessfully infiltrate the institute."

" Your life would make a great soap opera from what I've heard of it," Marina joked. " Mob hits, exploding houses, the sister locking you in the funny farm- sounds a lot like _The Bold and the Beautiful _to me."

" Sounds a lot like Springfield, too," Dinah said, bringing a laugh from everyone.

" What's this about mob hits and exploding houses?" Reva asked.

" My father died as part of some mob plan to take down the Lord Mayor of London that ultimatly failed," he invented. It had been a mob hit that killed George Potter, but not of the Muggle variety. He had a suspicion-nothing definite-that Anne's parents-in-law had been involved. The Old Lady never had liked Anne, and old man Black had always gone along with her for the most part. " As for exploding houses, that was how my wife died. All the authorities told me was that the gas pipes were under too much pressure or something like that. From the sounds of it, Lily was blown up in her sleep."

The fine lines around Reva's eyes deepened with her sympathetic wince. " Sounds like your life hasn't been all wine and roses."

" Hardly," James said dryly, remembering the more notable events of his life.

" Do you dream about it?"

The question caught him off guard, and he stared at Reva for a moment before answering. " Yes."

" Do you remember the dreams?" He was starting to feel as if she were cross-examining him. There was a vacant, far-off look in Reva's eyes that made it look as if she were having a vision.

" Most of the time."

" Always remember dreams. Sometimes, there's something in dreams that you'll never find anywhere else." Reva's voice had sank to a whisper, making the words sound as if they had some secret meaning just between him and her.


	6. A Drink With Phillip

Author's Note: I apologize for the way Phillip talks in circles, that is just Phillip. James isn't evil, just manipulative-in other words, made for a soap opera. James will start to interact with other Springfielders more in the next few chapters. I know I play pretty freely with GL pairings and time, but this is an AU fic. Would someone tell me if it really was Brandon Spaulding who founded Spaulding Enterprises? I can't remember.

Augusta

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that can be traced back to Guiding Light or Harry Potter.

**Chapter Six: A Drink With Phillip**

Reva Lewis hadn't lied when she said that he was causing a lot of talk in Springfield just by being an outsider. He hadn't left the confines of Company since he arrived in Springfield, but two weeks after his chat with Reva, but everyone in town seemed to have heard about him. One afternoon, Marina handed him a small, stiff piece of expensive paper. When he raised his eyebrows questioningly, she explained.

" Phillip Spaulding sent that message down from the mansion this morning," she said, her mouth tightening with distaste as it always did at the mention of the Spauldings. " He wants you meet him at Olivia's at two-thirty."

" Olivia's?" James asked, mystified. " I was under the impression that Phillip and Olivia hated each other. "

" Oh, they do," Marina reassured him. " I forgot that you don't know your way around Springfield yet- Olivia's is the name of the bar at the Beacon Hotel, she runs it. Her and Cassie Winslow renovated and reopened the Beacon together, but I think Cassie owns it all now." Dinah, who had walked into Company just in time to hear them, came over.

" I can give you a ride over there, if you want," she said.

" Thanks."

" It's no problem. I have to meet Edmund there anyway."

" I've met him. Speaks with an accent, has a bit of a fixation with his fiancee?"

" Yeah, that's Edmund. His brother's widow's his lover. Here, have a cup of coffee with me." Coffee, James had discovered, was one thing Company sold 'round-the-clock. Just as well he'd gotten used to it. It wasn't as bad as he had expected the traditional American beverage to be. A good deal of what he had believed to be true about Americans and American things were actually just myths, and not for the first time he found himself thinking that if he ever went back to England, it would be difficult to switch back to the British way of doing things. He and Edmund Winslow had had a lengthy conversation over that a few days earlier-Edmund was the dethroned prince of the Europeanized island of San Cristobel. James had thought he had misheard 'dethroned prince' for 'defrocked priest' at first, and then he had thought that Edmund was another of Springfield's madmen, but he had been brought to believe it. Who was he to say anyone had an improbable sounding past, anyway?

Dinah's car was of a much better model than he would have expected from a woman who worked as the P.R. girl for her ex. She smiled when she noticed that he had noticed. " My father got it for me as a Welcome Home present when I came back to Springfield and got out of prison."

" How did you end up in prison in the first place?"

" Long story. I was engaged to Hart Jessup, but Cassie Layne, then a stripper and now Cassie Winslow an upstanding citizen, stole him from me. I tried to kill Cassie, but I've never had good aim-I shot Hart instead." She blinked hard, then went on. " He died, and I ran. I ran for a long time, then I got thown in a dungeon prison. Jeffrey O'Neill-you've met him-got me out and had me impersonate Cassie while he impersonated her dead husband Richard-they look exactly alike except that Richard was better groomed, you can't tell them apart. It went on a few years, but the Richard died, Jeffrey left, and I went against orders and kept up the act for another year before Cassie found me out and Jeffrey busted me. Came back, got arrested. Cassie dropped the charges and then tried to kill me herself. Jeffrey and Edmund turned up and she chickened out, and here I am." Dinah smiled sardonically. " On a better note, have you heard Danny and Marina's news?"

" Have they set a date yet?" He had come to consider Danny and Marina and Dinah the best friends he had in Springfield. He was reminded of the Marauders, but had pushed that aside.

" No, but it's going to be after Christmas and before Easter."

" Good time for a wedding. Summer's not good."

Dinah looked at him quizzically. " Why not? Over here, summer's considered the best time for a wedding."

" Oh, we Brits think it's the best, too," he said casually. " It's a reasonable assumption-the stereotype of a pretty summer wedding. My wife and I were both seventeen when we married, and Lily was practically a little girl mentally. She set it for July. Oh, God, everything went wrong!" He laughed aloud at the memory. As long as he kept himself from seeing faces, he could remember it safely enough. His wedding had been less of a personal than political occasion to him, and that made the difference. A Potter taking a Muggle-born to wife signified a change in the world; a physical representation of the unity the world would need to win the War.

" What happened?" Dinah asked.

" It was the hottest summer in my memory that year, and all the flowers wilted. The Matron of Honor-my Aunt Pauline- fainted, she said from the heat, everyone else said from her girdle being too tight. The ice cream, the ice, and the icing on the cake all melted, and all the drinks got warm. The bridesmaids were all wearing taffeta, and they looked like dying morning glories in that purple color Lily had them wearing. The Maid of Honor-my sister Anne- said it was too hot to bother with formalities and set the best man-my best friend-to fanning her with a program. The musicians got their scores mixed up and everyone was playing something different. It was my Grandmother Wright who set things right, no pun intended. She started the whole wedding over with new flowers, food, rearranged the scores, and forbade Anne to enlist herself a servant. After that, we had a perfectly normal, boring wedding." He smiled at the memory.

" It's a wonder you got married at all," Dinah commented. " I've never been legally married, myself. It always went wrong. Hope it goes okay for Danny and Marina. Danny told me that their biggest worry is Michelle and Tony.

" Who're they?" James remembered Michelle as having been the name of Danny's wife who ended up on the wrong end of a mob hit, but Tony meant nothing to him.

" Danny's ex-wife and his cousin," Dinah explained. James looked at her, confused.

" I thought Michelle was dead in an explosion."

" Oh, no, life wouldn't be that kind to Danny. Michelle just lost her memory. She started dressing like a hooker and her attitude... I won't have anything to do with her, and I don't have many things I won't deal with. She fell for and married Danny's cousin Tony Santos. He's as stupid as Michelle, and Danny doesn't own either of them anymore. He said he lost Michelle in that mob hit-well, he did, just not the way it sounded like. " She nodded firmly.

" What about them's worrying Danny and Marina?"

" They're worried that Tony and Michelle will turn up just to ruin their wedding. Tony doesn't have enough brains to think that up himself, but Michelle would do it just for spite."

" Well, there's always a chance nothing'll go wrong."

" Yeah, sure," Dinah said sarcastically. " There's also a chance that Jeffrey O'Neill and Edmund Winslow will become best friends, too."

James had to laugh at that one-even having only been in Springfield the short time he had, he knew how much Jeffrey and Edmund hated each other. " What started that quarrel, anyway?"

" Cassie Winslow," Dinah said simply. " Jeffrey's a dead ringer for her dead husband Richard like I told you, andEdmund tried to kill himrepeatedly."

" He should meet my sister Teresa sometime-they'd be soulmates. She's been trying to kill me since she was sixteen and I was fourteen, may still be trying to find me so she can finish the job her lackeys botched." Dinah laughed. She was a Springfielder-deadly rivalries were the norm in this town.

The Beacon was a large, old-time hotel, sitting within sight of the docks and the Springfield Lighthouse, which he understood was the private property of Rick Bauer-his sister, who turned out to be Michelle, had been co-owner, but she had tried to turn it into a club and it had been decided she was incompetent to own property. Edmund was waiting outside for Dinah, and they started conferring in low voices at once. James walked through the front doors into the kind of wealth he had been accustomed to all his life but had almost forgotten in his humble lodgings at Company. The place screamed rich, from the winding staircase to the fine carpets to the bellhops in tuxedos. A large sign covered a wall showed through the oddly constructed door into a darker second room, and he thought it would be correct to assume it was the place he was supposed to be since the word 'Olivia's' was in curly writing across the wall sign.

He recognized Phillip Spaulding from Company at once, seated in a corner removed from the rest of the bar. James had to work to keep from falling back on old instincts-this was not the English Wizarding World, Phillip was not a wizard, and Phillip was most definitely not a Death Eater. Sitting in a corner away from everyone else did not mean an assasination attempt, just a desire for privacy. Phillip was looking at some papers in a red folder when James approached him, but he looked up-and closed the folder with the words " Spaulding Enterprises-Confidential" on the front-and extended his hand. " Mr. Potter."

James nodded adknowledgement. " Mr. Spaulding."

" Please, call me Phillip," he said, with a smile that didn't reach eyes with more than a hint of something like insanity in them. " Mr. Spaulding is my father, Alan."

" Mr. Potter is my brother Phillip," James returned as he sat. " What is it you want to see me about?"

Phillip tucked his red folder into his briefcase and pulled out another that looked just like it to James. " You might have already heard that we don't get many newcomers here in Springfield," Phillip said, laying the folder on the table between them. " I was curious, I'll admit, and I have connections. I've been doing a bit of research on you."

James felt his pulse quicken and his mind go into a state of detatched levelheadedness the way they did before a battle. " And? "

Phillip smiled again. " Why don't we discuss this over a drink? Waiter!" A waiter stopped, and they ordered. There was a tense, alert silence until the man returned with the drinks on a tray-a nice detail. Phillip tapped the folder. " You've lived a very interesting life, James. Very interesting. Went to a private school, left it with honors as the Head Boy-I presume that is a British position of some authority?" James nodded and Phillip went on. " Had several near-death expiriences, some at the hands of family members. Married your girl's school opposite number, a Lily Caroline Evans, who died under mysterious circumstances."

" If you're asking me if I killed my wife," James said levelly, " I didn't. I was in Hungary at the time."

" Oh, I never meant to insinuate anything," Phillip said lightly, waving it aside in a way that told James that insinuating that James had killed Lily was _exactly_ what he had meant to do. " However, you saying you were in Hungary at the time brings me to the whole point of this meeting."

" Which is?" James was starting to have a bad feeling about this whole affair.

" I know every detail of your life," Phillip said, sounding almost bored. " Including the fact that you just so happen to own a company yourself." He grinned at James's expression. " Surely you didn't think that another business man wouldn't find it out eventually? You can fool a lot of people, but not another man who's been there and done that. Your mother left you her father's company-Wright Enterprises, I believe."

" What do you want, Phillip?" James had had enough of playing mind games.

" You were in Hungary when your wife died on a business trip, then you came to America, lived in Savannah, Georgia for a time, left without leaving an address, and then came here." Phillip looked him straight in the eye. " It all makes a connected picture-but for one detail. James Potter is dead."

" I beg your pardon?"

" James Potter died under very mysterious circumstances and was buried near Haworth, England almost two months ago. Now, if James Potter is currently going to dust across the ocean, who are you?"

_Damn Albus!_ " I am James Anthony Potter," he said. " I have a cousin who was also named James Potter- my mother's sister Pauline and my mother married fifth cousins and both named their sons for their father, James Wright. My cousin died under, as you said, mysterious circumstances." He never flinched at the lie. Serena and Pauline had indeed both named their sons for their father, but the other James was alive and well, living in Barcelona and owning a whorehouse in the local Wizarding district, from all his cousin could conclude.

Phillip studied him suspiciously for a long time, but in the end he nodded. " I'll accept that-for now. No need to make an enemy of you before I get the measure of you."

" I can reassure you that I am not a good enemy to make." _Understatement,_ Anne's 'voice' said pointedly in his head.

_Too true, dearest._ Phillip spoke again, and James turned his attention to the person in front of him instead of the one in his head.

" The Spauldings are not a good enemy to make," Phillip responded easily, blatantly giving the impression that the family was in a perfect unity- meaning that they were truly fractured beyond repair. It was a tactic the Potters had used too often in front of others during the War. " Still, I don't want a fight. I want to talk alliance."

" I'm listening."

" I can see that you're an aristocrat. Some would call us Spauldings _nouveau riche_-Spaulding Enterprises was founded by my grandfather, but it goes no further than that-but as Jim Williams once said, 'It's the _riche _that counts'." James nodded; the little while he had spent in Savannah and a reading of _Midnight In the Garden of Good and Evil_ had made him very aware of who Jim Williams was.

" The Potters rose through the Wrights," James admitted, returning confidence for confidence. That was the way such careful conversations as this worked. "We were coast aristocrats out of money living in genteel poverty until that point. A good number of the more classical families in our part of England ended up like that due to the Industrial Revolution-living without two pence to rub together on the Welsh coast."

Phillip laughed. " The good old Industrial Revolution," he said, shaking his head. " The gentry lost it all, and the opporotunists closed in like sharks who've smelled blood in the water. Brandon Spaulding was a shark, and Horace Caruthers was a gentleman. The last Caruthers is a year dead and the Spauldings are living in a mansion."

James smiled thinly. " All sides have their season, my grandfather used to say."

" Too true-but I digress from the point. You're an aristocrat, I'm an opporotunist, we're both businessmen. Are you planning to stay in Springfield for any length of time?"

" I was thinking of settling here."

" Springfield is all about family and tradition- The Bauer Barbecue, the San Cristobel Gala, the Lewis's trips to Cross Creek, the Spaulding-Cooper War, the Coopers on Fifth Street, the Santoses and the Mob, all that manner of things. You don't have a wife or any family, from what I've found. It's entirely possible for you to fit into Springfield, but it'll be damn hard."

" Are you telling me to get the hell out of your city, Phillip?"

" No. I'm offering to help you become established in Springfield."

" So that's how it is. What's your price?"

" Springfield is Spaulding turf. This town all but belongs to Alan Spaulding. I want to know if you're planning to try to take Springfield from us with Wright Enterprises."

" That was the last thing on my mind," James told him, being totally honest for the first time in the meeting. " I would, however, be pleased to do business with you."

" We could both benefit," Phillip agreed, and stood. James noted wryly that neither of them had touched their drinks. " Might I take the liberty of inviting you to dinner at the Spaulding Mansion next Tuesday evening?"

A deal had been made, and what the repercussions would be was yet to be seen. " I'd be honored."

" Dinner will be served at seven," Phillip said, then left Olivia's.

Dinah was waiting when James came out of the bar a few minutes later. " Well?" she asked. " What's up?"

" Phillip Spaulding just asked me to dinner at the Spaulding Mansion on Tuesday," he told her.

Dinah's eyes scanned his face. " No one can refuse that invitation-even a Cooper would go."

" I didn't refuse, Dinah. I told him I was honored to accept."

Her eyes widened noticably. " You mean to play the Coopers against the Spauldings and the Spauldings against the Coopers? You're either insane or insanely ambitious, James."

" Probably both, " he agreed. " I'll play my game, Dinah, and you play yours. We'll both come out winners in the end-don't ask me how I know, but I do."

" You learn fast in Springfield never to ask anyone how they know anything," Dinah said matter-of-factly. " It always leads to trouble."

" You know, I become more and more convinced by the day that either this town was made for me or I was born for this town." Dinah laughed with him as they left the Beacon.


	7. The Spaulding Mansion

Author's Note: If anyone has a better title for this chapter, please tell me-I had more trouble thinking up one for this chapter than I did for any of the others. I know the old money/new money thing and the Madeira is faintly reminecent of _Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil_, because I was reading that recently. Still, it would seem to be in sync with pureblood Wizarding society too.

Augusta

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot, such as it is.

**Chapter Seven: The Spaulding Mansion**

It didn't take much effort on James's part to find the Spaulding Mansion on Tuesday evening. Arriving early to any event was always advisable-it gave you the chance to learn the lay of the land in case anything went wrong. Leaning against the Spaulding fence, he tried to get an idea of what he was up against. One of the best ways to learn about someone-or, in this case, someones-was to survey their abode. The Spaulding Mansion gave the impression that they were everything Phillip had said and more. They weren't just new money, they were new money with the imputiny to pretend to be old money.

A pair of elaborate wrought-iron gates guarded the entrance, obviously custom made. The drive cut a straight line through a fanatically well-tended lawn up to the mansion itself. It was a sprawling brick building with several chimneys rising above it, windows sparkling in the light from inside. It gave the impression of grandeur-only an impression to one who had been born into real grandeur and knew it's look as well as he knew his own face, maybe better, but grand in its own way. The Spauldings might not be gold, but they had enough gilt to open a mint. He checked his watch. Close enough. He walked up the drive to the front doors as if he owned the place.

A butler was waiting to open the door a fraction of a second after the first knock-it said that the Spauldings had been aware of him watching their house as clearly as a painted sign would have. He nodded to the man. This was like going to the Wright Manor back in Hampshire. His mother's people were decendants of Bowman Wright, the inventor of the Golden Snitch, and they took great pride in the fact. They were all, man, woman, old, and young, excellent Quidditch players, put on brooms before they could walk, and owners of the company old Bowman had founded, not to mention the Chudley Cannons, which had been a bad deal if the Wrights had ever made one, and Puddlemere United, which had been a more or less successful transaction. The Spauldings had built their company on ambition, and James would bet his bottom knut-no, he was an American now, it would be a dollar-that they were fiercely proud of it as well. The butler showed him through halls that smelled strongly of wood polish to the dining room.

The Spauldings were already seated, watching him with carefully immobile faces. Oh, yes, they had been aware of his surveillance, to prepare themselves so carefully. Phillip sat at the far end, and a man that James recognized as his father Alan sat at the head. To Alan's left sat a middle-aged woman with auburn hair still untouched by gray, his sister and co-family head Alexandra, who was Buzz Cooper's admitted and adknowledged lover. Beside Alex was a dark young man, Alan's long-lost illegitimate son Gus Aitoro, more formally called Nicolas Spaulding on invitations and company memos. His wife Harley Cooper Aitoro was, in sharp contrast, very fair, and glaring defiantly at her in-laws as if daring them to say she didn't have the right to be there. A warm-faced blonde about Alexandra's age was between Harley and Phillip, who gave each other looks that were unfriendly to say the least. He thought he had heard someone somewhere call her Lillian Raines, Phillip's mother-in-law.

To Phillip's other side was a teenaged blonde girl, his daughter Lizzie. _Little Lizard Spaulding_, he thought, and had to repress a laugh. It was amazing how much animosity someone as friendly as Marina could harbor under the right circumstances. She was seated with a nervous-looking fellow who kept shooting looks at her from the corner of his eye-if they had been in James's world, the boy would have been the prospective husband and Lizzie the apparently disinterested wife in a marriage arranged by Alan, but he had yet to learn how marriages among the upper class worked among American Muggles. Given the fact that Alan had, according to rumor, pushed Phillip into remarrying his twice-over ex-wife Beth Raines again, it didn't look like it was that different from his world in anything but semantics. To Lizzie's beau's other side was Beth Raines Spaulding herself. Beth was even newer money than the Spaulding's themselves, but she had the sad, tired elegance of old money, and it was no act. Few would have ever guessed that Beth wasn't born to the rich life, but regardless of birth, James didn't think there was anyone who would argue that Beth Raines wasn't a true old blood lady down to her bones. The chair between her and Alan was empty- a typical strategy, to put the outsider in the vulnerable position between the patriarch and the mistress of the house. James smiled disarmingly at them.

" Ladies, gentlemen," he said courteously, making a mental note to avoid the use of British terms he hadn't heard on this side of the Atlantic. The worst thing he could do was mark himself as a foreigner and different by failing to communicate effectively. " A very good evening to you." He seated himself without waiting for an invitation to do so, causing one of Alex's eyebrows to go up speculatively before she got her plain, heart-shaped face back under control. Alan's sharp eyes didn't betray anything of his thoughts. Phillip might have been insane, but Alan was the more dangerous of the two.

" And to you," Alan returned finally. His voice carried the unmistakeable overtones of good education, unquestioned authority, and probably some time in Europe. " Now that our guest has arrived, shall we be served?" Without waiting for any reply from any of his family, Alan called, "Stewart!" and immediatly, a man who could have been the other butler's brother came in, dinner on a cart.

The food was fancy, probably fancier than they normally ate. They were testing him; he could tell it in the way they watched for some kind of reaction. They didn't get one until he tasted the wine. "Madeira," he said appreciatively. " My grandfather never ate a meal after brunch without it-this is fairly new wine, and not the highest quality they produce. You ought to barter more effectively; it brings good results. I can put you in touch with an old friend of mine from the islands, a Portugese fellow with good connections." The tension over the table broke, not in loud talk, but quietly in the way that the wealthy were wont to break it. Beth's kind, sad eyes softened, and Alan went so far as to offer a tight smile. James knew he had just accomplished a major advance in making Springfield accept him as was without him having to marry into one of the three most prominent families-the Coopers, the Spauldings, and the Lewises-all of which were short on women who weren't either too young, too old, or already married.

Unbidden, an image of Lily flashed across his mind. He had seen to it that she got to the old country estate an hour before her first family council-dinner began, to give her time to adjust to the place. He could hear the eighteen-year-old girl speaking again as clearly as if they were there again instead of here... _' I feel like I'm in a movie or something,' she whispered, overawed. ' I didn't think people actually _lived_ in places like this. You grew up here, James?' She had giggled half-disbelievingly. 'Petunia would have a cow if she could see her little sister in a place like this-she was always the ambitious one, but she married a man who makes drills, for heaven's sake. Surrey isn't much on balls and belles.' _James noticed Beth looking at him.

" Are you all right?" she asked, genuine concern in her voice. Beth was one of those kind of people who made him feel guilty as hell for being who and what he was, always looking out for his own interests. Who said Gryffindors weren't ambitious? He managed a smile for her.

" Yes. I just remembered my wife for a moment. She would have thought you were all actors on _Dallas_ or _Dynasty_, just like she did at all my family's events. Lily was a simple woman at heart."

Beth smiled. She was more than beautiful when she smiled. " I think we're all simple people at heart," she mused. " You talk about her in past tense. Why isn't she here with you?"

_So Phillip didn't give the details of our meeting to them. Is he planning to do something alone, or am I just being paranoid?_ " Lily died in an explosion," he explained. " House went up while she was sleeping. I was on a business trip-I understand they buried what they could find of her in her own family's plot-I left Europe and the Isles as soon as her sister's letter reached me."

Beth's eyes widened with shock. " Oh-I'm sorry-"

" Don't be. You didn't know. Besides, it was a political match. I barely knew Lily at all, and we were married for eighteen years." That was a cold lie even for him, but not too much of a stretch. He had known Lily, even if he hadn't loved her-that had always been Morgan, who he had already resolved not to think about.

" Eighteen years?" Alan said disbelieveingly from his other side.

" We married at seventeen," James told him. " Her grandfather proposed it to mine as a means of ending a feud over some lands in Ireland."

" That sounds positively Tudorian," Alex commented. James half-bowed to her; he had it on good authority that plain-faced Alex was properly the Baroness Alexandra Spaulding.

" Things haven't changed very much from Tudorian times where I come from, Baroness," James returned dryly. It was all too true-the Wizarding World was very antique in its ways.

" You must call me Alex," Alexandra said warmly. " It's not often I meet anyone else who's been to Europe to talk to about it. We'll have to become friends." Alexandra's smile seemed genuine, and he returned it politely.

" I hope we may." He raised his glass very slightly. " Your health, Alex."

" And yours," Alexandra replied, returning the toast.

The meal went on without incident, a perfectly arranged mix of food, drink, and light talk. The evening concluded quite successfully, to James's mind, with expressions of pleasure from all at meeting him and a second invitation. He had to work hard to suppress triumph as he accepted. The first invitation showed polite curiosity, the second showed acceptance. Everything was going according to plan.


	8. Memories and Mistletoe

Author's Note: I know I backed up James and co.'s Hogwarts Era more than a decade, but it workes. Not as if Hogwarts really notes the trends of the outside world-the uniform is the same if it's the Roaring Twenties or the Sixties Hippies.

Augusta

Disclaimer: If it can be traced to no universe in print or on screen, then it is mine.

**Chapter Eight: Memories and Mistletoe**

Springfield started to have the familiar tension associated with the Christmas season not long after James's second dinner with the Spauldings, an atmosphere he regarded warily. It would be his first Christmas here-and the first in his adult life without Lily, without any family at all. Sometimes he felt as cold as icicles hanging from the roofs, especially when he thought of them. Anne was always very solidly there, backing him and getting backing in return. He didn't know what he'd do without his sister, under the circumstances.

On the twentieth of December, Marina and Danny put up Company's Christmas tree. James walked in from a meeting with Billy Lewis involving a possible trade deal, and there they were, ornaments in hand, the angel having ended up on Danny's head one way or another, kissing while Marina held up some mistletoe that came nowhere near being over their heads. The broke it up when they heard the door close. " Nice hat, Danny," James said, managing to keep his face straight by virtue of his years of talking his way out of trouble as a Marauder.

" Nice..." Danny said, obviously unaware of his unique headdress. He reached up and felt his head. "Marina!" he exclaimed. Marina dissolved into giggles as Danny took the angel off his head and put it on the tree. " The place for the angel is not my head," he told her with exaggerated patience, as if talking to a two-year-old. Marina collapsed against him with laughter, and he put an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright.

A flashback to his last Christmas at home hit him, and for once, he didn't try to fight it off. For some reason, he wanted to remember it. He wanted to remember the way things used to be, before he found out that Peter was a Death Eater, before he and Lily went into hiding with Harry, before a dangerous war became desperate...

_' D'you know why I married Anne?' Sirius quipped. The Potter sitting room quietened down at once in anticipation of the joke. Anne herself was in the kitchen, trying to make Christmas cookies, rather unsuccessfully by her fluent cursing._

_' Why?' Elizabeth asked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. _

_' Well,' Sirius began elaborately, ' the bachelor life was great, but eating my own cooking got the better of me, so me and Anne got hitched.' There was some laughter at that. No one really believed food was Sirius's only motive in entering matrimony, though it was plausible with him. ' But then, alas, I found out a most awful and dark secret about my little wife. She's an even worse cook than me!' __They all erupted into hilarity._

_' Um, Padfoot?' Peter said, gasping for air from laughing. ' This might be the time to run, mate.'_

_' Why d'you say that, Wormtail?' Remus asked, a knowing grin appearing on his face as he looked over Sirius's shoulder._

_' Because Anne's right behind Sirius with a rolling pin in her hand, and by the look on her face, she heard that!'_

_Sirius whirled around to face his wife, looking rather alarmed. 'Um-hi, Annie-' She tapped the rolling pin in her hand. Sirius did the smart thing in changing the subject. He did the stupid thing in changing it to what he did. 'Are you feeling well?'_

_'I'm perfectly well,' Anne said in the pleasant tone that meant she was really angry and hiding it very temporarily. 'Why do you ask, loverling?'_

_'It's just that you're looking awfully pale, and-no, it wouldn't be kind to tell you that,' he interrupted himself, half-bowing to her._

_' Tell me what?' Anne demanded._

_'It's your hair, dearest,' Sirius said, as if each word caused him new pain. ' Every bit of it's gone gray.' With a screech, Anne flew to the nearest mirror. Vanity had always been her besetting sin. Her face and hair, like the rest of her, were covered with a layer of flour from her baking. She turned on her husband in a fury. _

_' Sirius Black, I am going to kill you!' An animated chase had followed, which resulted in almost everyone from old Great-Grandpa Henry to three-year-old Regina Lupin getting knocked over. Through his mirth, James noticed Lily apparently wrestling in the floor with Harry._

_' Er-what're you doing, Lil?' He managed._

_She looked up, a harrassed expression on her face. ' I'm trying to save our son from strangulation,' she replied in exasperation. ' He's trying to eat the tinsel!' _

_'Here, Lily,' Serena said, picking the baby up and twiriling around with him before reclaiming her seat by her father-in-law-Serena and Anthony had been even closer than they had always been since George's murder had left Serena a widow. ' I'll look after him-he is my grandson, after all.' Serena smiled at the boy on her lap. ' Harry knows he's best off with Grandma Rena and Great-Grandpa Tony, doesn't he?' she asked Harry, as if expecting him to answer or correct her for talking to him in third person. Lily smiled indulgently at her mother-in-law. Even Serena admitted that Lily was an excellent mother, but Serena Wright Potter was the most baby-crazy woman in the world. She watched Anne and Elizabeth and Lily's waistlines almost religiously for signs that she might expect another grandchild to spoil. Young Miss-even James called Solenge Young Miss, and she was his grandmother, Old Miss was his Great-Grandmama Gina-laughed._

_'Serina, you weel spoil ze boy rotten,' she proclaimed in her French accent._

_' Ah, be easy, love,' Anthony said, turning an adoring look on his wife. Age hadn't decreased her looks, inherited from her veela great-grandmother. ' We spoiled George and Marguerite more than our Serena spoils Harry.' The old lady threw up her hands in exasperated surrender._

James pulled himself roughly back into the present. Marina was looking at him, a faintly sympathetic look on her face. She seemed to get that holidays were difficult when your life has been turned abruptly upside-down. " Don't just stand there staring at us," she chided. " Come help us decorate this tree." She tossed a string of lights at him with as much skill and precision as a good Chaser. Quidditch was one of the little luxuries he had missed most since the War started.

As he already well knew, it was impossible to dwell on the past or be in a depressed state around Danny and Marina; their enthusiasm for what they were doing and for each other was infectious. As they were hanging ornaments, Marina said, " We've set a date for our wedding."

" Really?"

" Mm-hm. April 14."

" I'm happy for both of you," he said, and meant it.

" You're invited, of course," Marina said. " We wouldn't think of not having you there." She grinned. " You're a Springfielder, if the most...unique one I know of. You live with the Coopers, eat dinner with the Spauldings, and manage not to make an enemy out of either one. "

" It's my multiple personality disorder," he said dryly. " Each personality has its own way of doing things." Marina laughed and pushed her auburn hair out of her face.

" So that's what's wrong with you," she said, continuing the joke. " I did wonder."

" Sad but true," he returned. " Madness runs in the family."

" Oh yeah?"

" Yeah. It's a combination of inbreeding and ambition."

" Sounds like the Winslows to me," Danny threw in, making them both laugh.

" Are you three _ever_ going to get that tree decorated?" Buzz demanded from behind the counter.

" Oh, but of course, Buzz," James said. " It'll just take a while-none of us wants to end such dazzling displays of wit so soon after we began them."

* * *

The sense of expectation continued to build over the few remaining days till Christmas. On Christmas Eve, James went to the special Mass at the local chapel just out of the principle of the thing. There had been a time when he attended Mass daily and confession at least once a week, he thought wryly. Lily had been a very good influence, but not even the best of influences lasts forever. He wasn't entirely sure how he would spend Christmas-he didn't have any family to go to, and he wasn't sure if the Coopers would want him intruding on their celebrations-but that wasn't on the top of his list of things to think about as he headed back to Company after Mass. There had been something very soothing, almost theraputic, about going to services again. He'd have to do it more often. He heard a voice speak behind him.

" Nobody should spend Christmas alone, not even people like us." Almost immediatly following that statement, a snowball hit him. He whirled around to see Dinah, bundled up against the cold and laughing merrily, a rare enough thing from her. Her humor was usually a mirror of his own sarcastic wit. " What?" She said in response to what must have been a very dense look on his face. " You Brits never heard of a snowball fight?"

" I haven't been hit by a snowball since the winter of '62," he said slowly. " My best mates and I and our girlfriends all got into a Snowball War right in front of the whole school. I will have you know that my girlfriend and I managed to thoroughly whip all the others."

Dinah's eyebrows went up. " Was that a challenge?"

" Was it?" He didn't miss the beginning of a grin on her face.

" I think so," she said, twiddling with her hair as if to distract him.

" And how do you answer it, Lady?" He asked, trying to remember just how that quote from Sir Somebody to Rebecca in _Ivanhoe_ went. He was close enough, in any case.

" I say bring it on!" That was the end of acting their ages, or anything remotely near their ages. Until the snow on Company's walkway was too trampled and widely dispersed to be used for snowballs, they indulged in a most satisfactory snowball fight-it couldn't be properly termed a Snowball War like Gryffindor House termed the ones between several people in team-like groups, but it was still the most fun he'd had in years. By chance, Dinah, alight with laughter and with snow in her hair, got the last throw of the day. He dodged it and hit the door as she almost simultaneously hit a patch of ice and fell forward. He instinctively reached out and caught her before she hit the ground.

" Thanks," she said, regaining her balance. " That would have been embarrasing, falling like I don't know how to walk." Her gaze swept upward. " Uh-oh."

" What?"

" Look right over our heads." He followed her gaze up to the highest point of Company's door, and spoke without thinking.

" Mistletoe."

" Uh-huh." Dinah had a thoughtful look on her face for a split second. " Oh, what the hell?" She said rhetorically, and before he could register what was going on, she kissed him.

" Now," she said a minute later, somewhat breathlessly. " As I was saying, even someone with no family and someone else whose stepmother has a restraining order against her shouldn't spend Christmas alone, don't you agree?"

" Christmas is a time to share with others," he agreed, following the 'analogy' as if the persons Dinah was referring to weren't him and her.

" Meet me at Towers tomorrow evening," she said, more an order than a request. " Having a nice dinner and some drinks'll do us both good. Besides, it's not as if either one of us has an engagement or anything better to do."

" What, Jeffrey didn't ask you to spend Christmas with him?" he joked in return. Jeffrey and Dinah couldn't pass each other in the street without getting into a screaming fight that got them in trouble for disturbing the peace.

" Nope, and I doubt that Lily's called to ask if you're going to be home either."

" Nope. Care to have a drink now?"

" You're buying."

" That was the idea."

They finalized the plan to meet at Towers, one of Springfield's more high-class restraunts, on Christmas Day over a drink. It would be open, due to the Lewis Construction Christmas Party, traditional rival of the Spaulding Enterprises Christmas Party at the Beacon. When Dinah left to complete her shopping-American women were no different that English ones in their love of shopping up to the eleventh hour- James was left thinking over the whole situation. He wasn't the sort to agonize long over a failed relationship, not even one that ended the way his marriage did, but there was one thing he had to do before he could move on with Dinah or anyone else. He sighed and got Marina to bring him another drink. It was time to face his past and the women who had shaped it.


	9. Love and Duty

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that can be traced back to the Guding Light world or the Harry Potter world.

**Chapter Nine: Love and Duty**

He managed to hold off on thinking until he was lying in bed staring at the dark ceiling. The light of a full moon shone through the window, giving a pale gray illumination to the room, softening the edges of the shadows. He had long since fallen into the faintly romantic, partly philisophical, ridiculously poetic and symbolic thought that such things were a representation of nature that the dark had not triumphed-that the light still clang to life however feebly. He paused. The full moon. Two months since he left England. Moony was somewhere across the Atlantic, forced into his transformation by that white light, alone in his monthly foray for the second time in many years. It wasn't right- but very little was.

It was hard for him to feel anymore, but for this one night he would try. The War had done things to him, stolen part of what made him human. He had been seeing things straight out of nightmare since he was fifteen years old, and, at some point, he hadn't been able to take anymore and retain _himself_, if that made any sense. He waited for Anne to say it didn't and wouldn't he go to sleep so she could get some rest, but nothing was forthcoming. Maybe she'd just reinforced thebarrier between them andgone to sleep anyway, meaning he could think it all out freely without her poking around in his head. Their bond could be a nuisance at times.

He and Anne had both made a critical choice years ago, when they were little more that children thrown into a brutal adult war. To everyone's shock, he had been a Gryffindor and his sister had been a Slytherin-Anne said that they both had Gryffindor hearts and Slytherin heads, and she just listened to her head and he to his heart. The choice they had made on graduation had been subconcious, but no less real for that. He stopped feeling, pushed away everything soft in him that he could, essentially allowing the Slytherin qualities of his head to come out in the open. Anne, on the other hand, had fallen back on her own Gryffindor perspectives and traits, which she had taken far less trouble to conceal than he had his own other side. He knew his sister hadn't had a single friend among her yearmates, at any rate, which would indicate that she let the other Slytherins know she had some Gryffindor sympathies. The result had been Anne managing to find something to hope for even when the future seemed bleak while he just concentrated on day-to-day survival without any real conviction that the War would or could be won by the faltering light. Morgan had noticed it immediatly when she came back after the first time they had been separated. _You're different....harder. You've let this War between our world and Voldemort change you, my love. No, I'm not condemning you. It's changed me, too. I may well be as bitter as you are, now, but better at hiding it. _

Morgan. She had been the one great love of his life, and her death was one of the most completely wrong things he knew of. He could see her as if she were lying there beside him, her dark head against his shoulder. She had been heartbreakingly beautiful in all respects, but it had been her eyes that drew people to her, too big for her small, perfect face and always so kind, so trusting-it was often hard for those who didn't know her like he did, and there weren't many who did, to believe that she had been greatly feared by the Dark Lord's minions for her fierceness in battle. She had been small and slight, light and fragile in appearance. Physical strength might have eluded her, but she was the strongest person mentally that he had ever known, excepting maybe only Dinah. So many sides of her personality, all more familiar to him than his own face...the saint that most people saw, the bitter woman who'd lost everything to a then-undeclared rival, the lover only he knew, the loyal shield-sister, the figurative if not literal princess of the Wizarding World...there had never been and never would be another Morgan. James fought back the efforts of the painful knot in his throat to dissolve. He wouldn't cry like a woman, dammit. Potters never cried, and they never looked back. If one plan failed, they made revisions, if one weapon broke, they found a second. If one love died, they found another. He had to tell himself that.

Morgan had been the only woman he'd ever loved, and they had dreamed of a life together, not as a married man and his illict mistress but as man and wife themselves. They had been so close that winter of seventh year...they had had it all and lost it all in one dark night when Albus Dumbledore tried to play God. He had imprisoned Morgan in the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts and simulated her death, leaving him with nothing but a pixie-lead Lily Evans, slipped a love potion by Dumbledore that made her become instantly enarmoured of James Potter who she hated, and a desire for revenge that kept him from killing himself. Years had gone by before Morgan's attempt to kill herself enabled her to escape and come back to him the night her career as his permanent mistress began.

He had known that something had to give when the problem he and Morgan named Arthur as part of an inside joke arose. Arthur had been their son, illegitimate but solid proof that the reason his long marriage to Lily had been childless was Lily herself. The boy had meant far more than that to James and Morgan, but the Family Council had only cared that it meant that the lack of an heir was Lily's fault. They had let the old dream take them again, that maybe Lily could be divorced quietly and they could marry and legitimatize Arthur or failing that have another son, and be a family, just them and their children and screw the Potters and the Wrights and the Dumbledores if they didn't like it. For two glorious years they had believed...but then it all came crashing down around them. Arthur died suddenly and unexpectedly within days of Lily announcing that she was pregnant. He had thought at first that the stupid woman was delusional, as she hadn't had a pregnancy since her last miscarriage before Morgan returned, and then that she'd bedded someone else and expected him to give a name to her bastard brat, but Lily had managed to present the family with a son who was only too plainly a Potter. He had never thought of Harry as his son...Harry was Lily's son, nothing much to do with him. He realized that now, looking at it objectively. Harry was just another pawn in the game of pureblood inheritance, albeit an essentially useless one given his mother's coming from Muggle blood. In all events, he and Morgan had known that it was over for them on the night of July thirty-first when Anne, forced to act as the midwife in the dark comedy of his marriage, announced grimly that 'the stupid bitch had a boy-a live bastard for us to have to support', to use her own words. Morgan's only reaction had been to say that no woman preferred to be the whore rather than the wife, but she'd settle for being his whore if that was the best she could do.

Fifteen months later, both 'the whore' and 'the stupid bitch' were dead.

Lily...there had never been any trouble in understanding Lily, but not because he knew her as well as he knew Morgan. Lily was a very simple woman, just as he'd told Beth Spaulding. She loved and hated with the same straightforwardness that the other Houses believed more or less incorrectly to be the hallmark of all Gryffindors. Having a twin in Slytherin and having the brain of one himself had shown him that the standard view was usually much too simplistic, unless you were dealing with people like Bella Black Lestrange, who was a representation of the pure evil that was thought to represent Slytherin, or the Weasley clan, who were stereotypical Gryffindors to the last man. Lily Evans had been so innocent...too innocent, really. She'd been woefully unsuited to the life he'd given her, unable to understand or comprehend what went on in the powerful family she had married into. The fact that she did not make a scene over his affair with Morgan was a by-product of the fact that she didn't know about it, not that she had been raised like a proper wife to know that she was supposed to smile and look the other way, as evidenced by her explosion when she found out about him and one former mistress, Mary Bradley. Mary herself had told him that she was ashamed for Lily, acting like she didn't know how to behave properly around her husband's pet courtesan. The wife and the courtesan were to ignore each other politely, not get into physical catfights. He had left Mary not long afterward, but not because of that-he wholeheartedly agreed with his little queen on that. No, the thousand days he had decided his and Mary's affair would span had ran out, and Morgan had come back within the week. Lily, naturally, had not understood that it was standard procedure for a man in his position.

He hadn't wanted to marry her. The only person he'd ever wanted to marry was Morgan, but Dumbledore's sick charade had taken that chance from him. Dumbledore had mixed up a variant of the potion Isaud had meant for Mark and Iseult that lead the fated love of Tristam and Iseult. Lily had trustingly drank the tea the old man had laced with it at the fateful meeting where they were told that Morgan was dead and had "left" James to Lily for some obscure reason that was really Dumbledore's belief in his pretended obsession with Lily. James had refused it, suspecting something when he noticed that Dumbledore had poured for himself before they came in. The result had been Lily instantly falling in love with him for all that they had barely exchanged ten words in seven years that weren't insults, making her essentially an Iseult without a Tristam. After a whirlwind courtship with Dumbledore prodding every step of the way, he had found himself married to her in July of '78, less than a month after they graduated from Hogwarts. He had been little more than a boy at the time, hardly able to think straight after Morgan's "death", never mind resist his parents and Dumbledore trying to push him into a marriage with the little Muggleborn chit he cared nothing about. Lily had wanted him, his family had wanted to give an impression of accepting Muggleborns as part of the Wizarding World, Dumbledore merely wanted him out of the way, and he only wanted the one thing he couldn't have-Morgan.

Despite his own unhappiness in the marriage, he had tried to make her happy...he had thought in his boyish sentimentality that he owed her that much, at least. He was old enough and had been through enough now that he knew that he had never owed Lily anything, but he had though so then, or maybe he'd just felt sorry for her. In any case, he'd managed to learn to care for her...he might have even come to love her, if in a rather fraternal fashion, had circumstances not been what they were. He had tried so damn hard, and for what? She loved him, or thought she did-how could she love him when she didn't even know him?-but that wasn't enough. She wanted him to be totally and completely hers...she didn't have an ounce of malice in her, towards him or his mistresses. All Lily ever wanted was to be loved, but he couldn't do that for her-the one thing she ever wanted from him. For some reason, it made him feel sad. She couldn't replace what he'd lost, and he had never been able to have any real communication with her beyond a few isolated incidents when, for no more than a heartbeat, they understood each other.

A major problem in their marriage, at least to the Family Council, was the fact that while Lily had no trouble _getting _pregnant, it was seemingly impossible for her to _stay_ pregnant for more than five months. The whole point of marrying, from a pureblood point of view, was to produce heirs to carry on the family name and legacy. Even if their children would not be purebloods, the Potter name would have made them powerful players in the status game, but they didn't have any children. He knew that the other women in his family had made a bad situation worse, giving her the idea that she was only half a woman because she was, for all intents and purposes, barren. She had known that he'd loved Morgan, and feminine jealousy had been even more likely to flare up after 'another disappointment' than it was under normal circumstances-and even in the best of times Lily was prone to sometimes throwing his late love in his face just to hurt him whenever she was angry or frightened or in any other way inconvienienced. It had been a familiar pattern, unfailing as the progress of the sun-she would bring Morgan's name into it, a hard silence would fall, and then they'd fight until she ran to their bedroom crying and he went somewhere and got drunk. When Morgan came back, it only got worse.

Then she had Harry, and her insecurities vanished. For the first time in their married life, they had some peace. Lily was too busy falling in love with her baby to get jealous over Morgan, and he could do no wrong in her eyes simply because he was the said baby's father. James's own mother had been the most baby-crazy fool ever to live, but Lily was a close second. She had died for Harry, quite literally.

In so many ways, Morgan Dumbledore and Lily Evans had made him what he was. Whether that was a good thing or not was debatable.

_Never forget me,_ Anne chimed in. _Your sister the Slytherin Slut had her part in it, too._

_Annamaria, forgetting you is impossible,_ he retorted, his humor restored by his sister's lighthearted remark. _I just preferred not to mention you and your Slytheriness as being associated with two decent women._

_I resent that! _The words were angry, but the tone was jesting.

_That was the point, darling._

_You self-righteous Gryffindors don't have the sense God gave a goat,_ Anne pronounced. _I'm going to bed. Have nightmares, Griffie._

_The same to you,_ he thought back, and tried to keep from laughing out loud. He might have been a Gryffindor and Anne might have been a Slytherin, but he defied anyone to say that they weren't as alike a two peas in a pod-or two snakes in a bird's nest, to use a more fitting similie.

* * *

Author's Note: Another thanks to my reviewer. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter, since I've had to re-write it five times before it stopped sounding like a history book. James and Anne's psychic bonding is explained pretty well in a later chapter I'm working out pretty tentatively-I've got nine-tenths of the story worked out in my head already.In the next chapter, James and Dinah decide it's time to let the dead rest and move onward and upward.

Augusta


	10. New Beginnings

Disclaimer: I don't own it if you can trace it to the Harry Potter world, the Guiding Light world, or any other world save the one I made up in my head.

**Chapter Ten: New Beginnings**

James got to Towers before Dinah and wondered if he should have. In Wizarding England, that was considered polite, to show that you respected her. Over here, it might well mean you were desperate. He laughed at himself when he realized that he was thinking like some Hufflepuff kid on his first date with a Ravenclaw. Dinah was so unconventional herself that she didn't have a millimeter of room to talk about anyone else. She'd probably think it was funny.

She walked through the doors like a queen into her Great Hall. She returned the hard looks of a few Lewises with a cool, masklike smile that defied them to say anything. A trace of sincerity entered it when she saw him, the one friendly person in a rather hostile crowd of Springfielders, but there was a little nervousness there too, unexpected but not altogether unsurprising under the circumstances. It had surprised him to realize that Dinah was more vulnerable than he was in this situation. She had never been part of a relationship that didn't involve manipulation, not even with her parents. He did have _some_ idea of how proper relationships worked, even if it was by British standards.

" You look marvellous," he complimented her, standing to hold out her chair for her. She laughed.

" Such a gentlemen. Are they all like that where you come from?"

" No-I just had a very strict nurse."

" That's not me at all," she said with a grin. " My mother gave me to a circus to be raised!"

He couldn't help but laugh at that one. " A _circus_?"

" Mm-hm. She didn't want anyone to know that she'd had Ross Marler the upright lawyer's baby until she got ready to blackmail him with it. What was your dear mother's excuse?"

" It's family tradition for the mother not to have anything to do with her children until they're old enough to be used for some practical purposes." He saw Dinah's eyes widen. " Not like _that_," he said quickly, and she dissolved into giggles.

" I didn't say anything," she managed.

" You didn't have to," he returned smartly. She tossed her hair in a coquettish gesture.

" Let's order while I'm still ahead," she said.

" You aren't," he told her as he flagged down a waiter.

They made small talk until the waiter, a fellow sporting what he must have thought was a French moustache, returned with the wine. Dinah took one of the glasses and raised it. " I propose a toast," she said brightly. " To new beginnings."

They drank the toast, and then looked at each other for a long moment. He knew that for that one crazy minute Dinah saw Hart again, the lover she herself had accidentally killed. He knew because in that moment he allowed himself to see Morgan one last time, her dark eyes alight with mischief and tucking her long hair back behind one ear in a quick hallmark gesture. Then the mirages of lost loves faded, and they were left looking at each other.

" They're gone," she said softly. " Hart and Morgan." He blanked out for a moment, then remembered telling her a little about Morgan, not much but enough.

" Yes," he said with a sigh. " They're gone, and there's only us left here, isn't there? Us two ex-fiance's who loved them till they died."

Dinah drained her glass and poured herself another. " I'm letting Hart Jessup go!" she announced with an extravagant gesture. " He's dead and he was married to Cassandra Layne anyway, and I'm free of him!" She smiled, though her eyes sparkled a little more than normal for a moment. He didn't say anything; she'd just say it was the wine going to her head. " That felt good."

" I know," he said. " I did the same thing with Morgan last night."

" Shall we have our dinner now that we're both free of our ghosts?" She half-joked.

" That's the best idea I've heard yet, Dinah. This French food-my sister loves it, but I never did have a taste for the odder varieties like she did. I mean, _snails_?"

" Fish eggs?" Dinah said with a grimace.

" Mold?"

" You realize we sound like a pair of two year olds, don't you?" she asked.

" And?" he retorted.

" You're a nut," she said teasingly, her eyes dancing.

" Correction," he said. " I am a certified nut."

" Is there a difference?"

" But of course."

" What is it?"

" How am I supposed to know?" Dinah rolled her eyes dramatically at that brilliant display of knowledge and sampled the bouillabaisse. " Not half bad," she said after a moment's consideration.

* * *

It didn't take long for Springfield to realize that the town's newest foreigner and the town's only psychopathical murdering madwoman were a couple. Cassie Winslow told him quite bluntly that he was just asking to get himself killed because Dinah put the 'fatal' in _femme fatale_. Unfortunately for Cassie, Dinah had overheard her, leading to a literal knock-down drag-out in front of Company that ended with Frank Cooper arresting them both for assault. He and Edmund had managed between them to call in some favors and get them bailed out, and both had refrained from pressing charges because they didn't want to take the chance that the other woman would sue back.

Dinah couldn't have been more different than either Morgan or Lily or even Mary Bradley. She was the most like Mary, but she didn't have that glitter that had characterized Mary. Mary had been warmer, too, almost as if she wanted to give up her profession of being first one then another rich man's mistress and become a poor man's wife but no one would have her. Dinah was too intense, too driven, too prone to obsessions-but who was he to talk? What had drawn him to Dinah was the fact that she _was_ like him. They worked together. They thought the same way and would fall to about the same level-which meant whatever it took. Dinah did, however, still have one quality that he was trying to regain, more for her sake than his own. Dinah remembered how to laugh, how to believe that some good might come out of it all. She was maddeningly complex, but she suited him and he supposed he suited her.

They had put the past behind them on Christmas night, and the future was theirs for the taking. They would make it what they wanted it to be, andto hellanyone who got in their way. Springfield would disapprove, and who cared? They had both known disapproval from far greater forces than their hometown. In the end, Springfield would take them back, because they _were _Springfielders. Springfield was loyal to its own, no matter what their transgressions.

Then, in February, a sickening blow fell.

It was nearly midnight when Anne pushed her way into his mind and literally forced him to wake up. _Dear God, dear God, help me,_ he heard her saying, and her 'voice' was shaking and wild.

_What is it?_ he demanded, alarmed. _What's happened?_

_I didn't think he'd actually do it-I didn't think it would go this far-oh God, oh God. James, I can't stand it, I can't, they're driving me insane-_

_What the hell's going on, Anne?_

_I'm in Azkaban._

Author's Note: Left you on a cliffhanger, eh? Don't worry, next chapter up same day as this one. Anne is stuck in a very bad position very similar to her namesake, Anne Boleyn. Dinah sympathsizes.

Augusta


	11. Anne's Ordeal

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you can trace back to the Harry Potter world, the Guiding Light world, or any other world besides the one I made up in my head.

**Chapter Eleven: Anne's Ordeal**

He almost lost his connection with her in a second that lasted an eternity of blank shock. She was too persistent in keeping herself very firmly in his consiousness for the link to break, though. The whole thing seemed very surreal, like a nightmare more than a real event. _I'm in Azkaban_-no, there was no way that Anne had just said that. _What's happened?_ he demanded again. She seemed wild, less than half sane.

_Barty Crouch. Remember I told you he tried to question me and Liz and Remus? Well, he had me arrested-just pulled out of my bed and told to get dressed because I was arrested! _There was an edge of hysteria in her voice, and he couldn't blame her.

_Calm down and tell me everything, _he said, trying to make the tone both firm and soothing, to steady her head and relax her nerves. No chance it would work-it never did-but it was worth a try. _Are Remus and Elizabeth with you?_

_No. The men, the ones Barty sent, they said that the other two hadn't done anything wrong. _

_What do they say you did?_

_They're saying I'm a Death Eater and I was working with Sirius on the plot to kill you._

_Is Sirius with you?_

_No- I saw him, though, he thought I was here to get him out, of all things, I had to stage trying to attack him like the heartbroken and betrayed wife-he's in the lower cells. I'm in one of the best ones, the ones they normally put powerful people in. They're not sure what to do with me-on one hand, I'm supposed to be a dangerous murderer, but on the other, Barty Crouch desires me! Oh, damn him, and damn me too! It's my own fault-if I had just-_ she broke off, and he got the idea that she was shuddering violently.

_What d'you mean, he desires you?_

_He didn't ask me a single question about you and Lily that day. He asked me to be his mistress-he claims he's been in love with me since he saw me dance at my wedding. I told him to go screw some hooker if his saintly Mary Carey wasn't good enough for him. _There was a sudden moment of removal, as if Anne had been rather roughly torn from her body and was somewhere else entirely. _No! I won't give in, I won't! To hell with the dementors-I won't give way, I won't let go of my sanity. To hell with the dementors!_ That statement was his first confirmation that Anne was telling the truth. That was the way she always sounded right before a battle, screaming defiance at the enemy.

_That's my girl,_ he encouraged. _Hold on, Anne. They can't hold you forever without some kind of proof._

_I'll sleep with the bastard if I have to,_ Anne told him grimly. _I hope to God it doesn't come to that-he's as married as I am-but I'm no saint. I won't be a martyr. I'll do what a Slytherin does best, and that's survive against the odds. _

_Of course it is. _Agreeing with her was the best thing he could do with her. Agreement was the one thing that stood a fifty-fifty chance of soothing her.

_Don't leave me, _she 'whispered', at least insofar as one could whisper in this manner. _Don't leave me here until it's over, James._

_I won't. _

He tried to act normally, but Anne's reactions to dementors and other things associated with being a princess in prison so far as it went made that difficult. Sometimes she went out of her head, in a total downspiral, and he knew that she was on her knees in her cell laughing hysterically. He knew her, and he knew what that wild laughter meant-that she was at the brink of losing control. It took all the mental strength he had and then some to pull her back. She always said the same thing after she regained her composure. _I scared the dementors out of their minds, if they have minds. No one laughs in Azkaban. No one but Crazy Annie. That's what they've been calling me since you left. Crazy Annie, who goes to the graveyard every night and opens up her brother's tomb so she can talk to his rotting corpse. Amazing what people'll believe. _Then she'd fall back into the familiar pattern of fighting for survival in spite of the odds against her.

He thought he did a fairly good job of hiding his constant preoccupation, but apparently it wasn't good enough. After three days, Dinah, Danny, and Marina basically ganged up on him and demanded point-blank to know what the hell was up with him. He managed to put Danny and Marina off with something plausible-sounding rubbish about a fight with one of his department heads via e-mail that was threatening to lose him one of his best workers. Dinah was not so easily fooled.

" What's really going on?" she asked, her face and eyes unusually soft.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he returned.

" There's nothing you could have done that I haven't done worse," she said reasonably. " I'm Dinah Marler, remember?"

" You're not going to let it go, are you?"

" No. Girlfriend's rights."

" All right. I can't tell you everything, but I will tell you what I can. I trust you, as far as I trust anyone."

" I'll take that as a compliment," she said, with a trace of her old humor.

" It is, believe me." Then he told her, in Muggle terms. About how he'd been on a business trip when his wife died. How it had been a murder, not a gas explosion. How his mistress had died in it too and been buried under his name. How his mistress' father had simulated his death before he knew it. How his brother-in-law and sister were taking the fall for his murder. The only thing he didn't get into details about was Harry, merely saying that the mistress' father had sent his son to relatives he didn't know where were to be reared with their own.

" Well," she said finally. " I can see why you don't want it to become common knowledge. You _have_ lead an interesting life." In spite of her light tone, there was something akin to compassion in her blue eyes. " So it's your sister being in prison that's worrying you?"

" Anne's very claustrophobic, and she goes a little mad sometimes-goes into fits that go as quick as they come. It's only a matter of time until she cracks."

" Do you need to go back to England?"

" Dinah, I told you that I'm dead. They wouldn't believe it was me if Jesus Himself vouched for me."

" I get it," she said, and he knew she did. They were both ne'er-to-do-wells in a town full of goody-two-shoes, and she had been in a very similar position, once-having to disappear like she never existed from everyone and everything she had ever known, even crossing the Atlantic just as he had save for which continent she was heading to. " No one'll hear it from me," she continued. " I only break my word to enemies, and you're hardly an enemy."

" Thanks, Dinah," he said, relieved. He had no desire whatsoever to be the object of Springfield's newest scandal.

" I don't have enough friends to do something stupid to lose them on a whim," she said with a shrug, as if it were of no importance. He got it.

Another week dragged by. Anne's condition seemed to get worse and worse. Something had to give, and finally, in the first week of March, it did. Anne pushed her way rather rudely into his head again and was obviously hysterical-with relief. _Thank God, thank God! Gloria in Excelcis Deo!_

_What is it, Annamaria?_

_I'm out-I'm at home. It's over. Sirius stated that I hadn't known anything and Remus called in some favors and pulled a few strings-oh, thank you sweet Jesus-_

James knew he caught Dinah rather off-guard when he found her, whirling her around and kissing her without a care as to who saw. " Good news, I'm guessing?" she said.

" Anna just called-she got released. Lack of evidence."

Dinah smiled, her delight mirroring his own. " Excellent," she said. " I'm glad it all worked out for her." She laughed provocatively. " I of all people should know how wonderful it is to get sprung-I had the possibility of being executed for what I did, and prison's hell for anyone but especially a sheltered woman. I'll have to meet Anne and swap stories someday."

" Maybe you shall," he said. " I'm fairly sure the two of you'd be fast friends in no time flat." He didn't miss the flicker of expression in her eyes that defied analysis, leaving him to wonder what was going on in her head. Dinah manipulated the way other people breathed-rather like him in that, when it came right down to it.

Author's Note: I'm working like mad to finish ch. 12. Will be up today or tomorrow.

Augusta


	12. Coopers and Santos'

Author's Note: A happy New Year to you all. Enjoy my attempt to write.

Augusta

Disclaimer: If it can be traced to any world in print, then it's not mine.

**Chapter Twelve: Coopers and Santos'**

The Coopers and all the regulars of Company, James included, began to feel a tension much more dramatic than that of Christmas as March inched closer and closer to being April. Weddings were not that uncommon an occurance in Springfield, but first weddings were and this would be Marina's first marriage. It was Danny's third, but Marina was only the second woman he'd married, as he and Michelle had actually been married twice. Marina spent half her time with Danny and the other half with her dressmaker, bridesmaids, wedding planner, and Aunt Harley, who, like most adult women in Springfield, was a veteran in the war of Woman vs. Wedding Date. On April tenth, Buzz started dropping everything he picked up and Marina's Uncle Coop started humming 'Here Comes the Bride' absent-mindedly. On April twelvth, Frank Cooper came into Company and started drinking about seven in the evening and stopped around midnight, sobbing about losing his little girl and having to be put to bed by Buzz, Coop, and Gus. Springfield seemed to hold its breath. Would little Marina Cooper have her first wedding successfully, or would it all go wrong in a standard bit of Springfield drama?

In the end, the event went through without a hitch. Tony and Michelle didn't show up or cause any problems, the various people associated with setting up and running the wedding pulled through, and no dramatic altarfront confessions called a halt to the ceremony. It was uncannily like his wedding-perfectly normal and boring. He couldn't help but wonder rather cynically if there was going to be a Morgan-it was just too similar, even right down to Danny and Marina looking somewhat like him and Lily. Watching them, he thought they might actually stand a chance. You couldn't fake the kind of devotion they had. He knew from long, bitter expirience. It just didn't work.

_I hate weddings_, Anne said grumpily as James made small talk with Frank during the reception. _They bring back bad memories. _

_Neither of your marriages were exactly smashing successes, were they?_ he asked rhetorically.

_That might've been the understatement of the century,_ Anne returned scathingly. _First there was the arranged marriage to the mad French wife-beater who's first two wives had died-wonder why? Was it because Jeanne couldn't have babies and Marie only had a girl like I did and the girl died?_ That last was injected with sarcasm. Anne's first marriage to Pierre Delacour had been one of the family's more complete disasters and most carefully shut away skeletons. The marriage had lasted a year and two months when Anne walked out after threatening to kill him if he laid a hand on her. As far as James knew, Anne hadn't seen her ex-husband or her unwanted daughter since that night. _Then, of course, I got myself set up very nicely as an Auror, life was going great, and what did I do? I got married again, and now my second husband is the most notorious convict in the Wizarding World and I'm having another brat I don't want or have any use for. What're you laughing at?_

_You. You were brought up to believe a woman's only a woman if she can have children, but you rather undiplomatically refer to yours at brats and say you don't want or have a use for them._

_The little Delacour girl-heaven help me, what is that child's name? I can't remember, and I'm supposed to be her mother- proved I could,_ Anne said tartly. _There was no need for this one. I don't like babies. They're annoying._

_Imagine if Harry had been dumped on your doorstep instead of Petunia's._

_No offense, but your son was the posterchild for why I don't like babies. Never could stay out of anything, and I doubt being raised by a cross-eyed Muggle with a mouth the size of Northumberland will improve him any. _

_Too true, but it can't be helped. Maybe the boy'll survive somehow. I suppose I should say a rosary or two over it; Lily swore he was mine and he looks enough like me for me to believe it. _

_We're Potters,_ Anne reminded him. _You don't have to love or even give a damn about the boy so long as you have his back. It's family policy._

_What a heartless creature you are, Anne._

_I know it,_ she said complacentely. _Now, please tell me things with this Dinah you talk about aren't so serious that I'm going to be stuck with another brat calling me auntie._

_Don't worry about that. For one thing, things are not that serious, and for another, I seriously doubt that any of my kids will ever call you auntie. Bitch, perhaps, but never auntie._

_That's nice._

_I know it._ " Olivia," he said out loud. " You're looking well."

Olivia Lewis laughed. " Oh, yeah," she said lightly. " Operation Kill Phil hasn't gone into effect yet, as he's still alive, but other than that, things are good." Operation Kill Phil was one of Olivia's pet daydreams, in which she brutally murdered ex-husband Phillip Spaulding. Most people thought that Olivia was a little _off_, but James didn't particuarly care if she was a nut job or not, as he came from a family of them. San Cristobellans all had issues, from what he could see, and Olivia had been born and bred on the islands, evenenjoying a brief stint as the fiancee of the late Prince Richard before he left her for Cassie. Olivia was also known to be able to manipulate people in her sleep, meaning that every word had to be considered carefully with her.

" I'm a bit surprised to see you at a Cooper wedding," he said.

" So am I," she admitted. " I reckon that they decided to be generous and invite every black sheep in Springfield because of Danny's past with the mob. I've seen the Shame of the Lewises-my adoptive nephew Jonathan Randall-here, and Dinah Marler caught Marina's bouquet. Throw you in and all we need in Tony and Michelle Santos and Sebastian Hulce to make this a party!" Olivia was slightly flushed and her eyes were sparkling a little too brightly.

" Liv, you've had too much champagne again," Bill said, coming up. " Sorry, man. Ollie gets a little tipsy at parties."

" Women getting tipsy is what makes them parties," he said permissively.

" For real? Never knew that one. C'mon, dear, the sitter's waiting with Emma." Bill steered his wife out, carefully avoiding the men walking around with trays of champagne glasses.

_So, Dinah caught the bouquet,_ Anne said speculatively. _You have outdone yourself this time, oh brother of mine. First a Muggle-born for my sister, and now a tried-and-tested _Muggle_ in the family?_

_Shut up, Anne._

* * *

Danny and Marina left for their honeymoon in Hawaii the next day, a trip that he was paying for because the Coopers couldn't afford to go to Chicago in a station wagon, never mind fly to a tropical island. Frank cried like a baby again, Buzz gave him a very long and paternal 'I've been there and done that, son, don't worry' sort of speech, Harley tried to comfort her brother, and Coop made crude jokes. In other words, even without Marina the Coopers were still the Coopers. Two days after the lovebirds flew off into the sunset(it was actually twelve noon, but sunset sounded more appropriate, according to Harley) James finally got to meet their worst nightmare: the Slutty Ex and the Stupid Cousin, Michelle and Tony. 

Michelle Bauer Santos looked like she would have been pretty, but for a number of piercings and tattoos, too much makeup, and clothes that made him want to tell her to go put on something and act her age. Tony was short and dark with a shaved head and a tendancy to tag along behind his wife as if he didn't have a clue which way to go without Michelle. She sauntered into Company and slammed her purse onto the bar. " So they got hitched," Michelle said loudly and rudely. "They'd better not be expecting my kid to call her mommy."

" I can make sure of it, Michelle," Tony offered eagerly, making a gesture as if to show her a concealed gun.

" I'll think about that," Michelle said. " Hey, Betsy! Gimme something to drink. They've told me about my dear old dad being a drunk, so why _not_ follow in his footsteps?"

The waitress looked at her with a disdainful expression. " My name's Leslie," the girl said.

" Whatever," Michelle said, rolling her eyes. " I don't have a memory, remember? I don't remember all you stupid Springfielders, you're all alike to me. Just give me my drink." She looked at James, who had been studiously ignoring the whole affair. " Who're you?"

" James Potter," he said shortly.

" You foreign?"

" Is it that obvious?"

" Watch it," Tony said. " Nobody sasses Michelle." He again gestured like he was about to pull a gun.

" I've taken out tougher s.o.b's than you, Senor Santos, so I'd recommend that you take your own advice." Tony looked simply furious, but Michelle raised a hand.

" Don't you know who Tony _is_?" She asked, apparently amazed that anyone would get the idea that they could beat her precious Tony in a struggle.

" The local mob boss," James replied promptly. " I've worked out who most everyone is by now, as I've been in Springfield for the past four months."

" Yeah, that's right," Michelle said, staring at him like she wasn't quite sure what to make of him. "That means you're supposed to be scared of him, not tell him you've taken out tougher s.o.b's. You don't look like a mob boss to me, and I've been married to two of 'em."

" No, never been a mob boss or had any inclination to be," he agreed. " However, I see no reason to lie about my opinion of your husband and his threats, Mrs. Santos. My own sister has been plotting my death since I was a boy. I hardly think that a small town mobster will finish the job after this long."

" Wanna bet?" Tony looked like he was just looking for a fight.

" Shut up a minute, Tony," Michelle said, tilting her head a little and surveying James critically. " No, I don't think I'll have Tony shoot you today," she said as if expecting to recieve thanks for that generosity. " It's nice to see that someone in this town has a little backbone, even if he is only a stupid Brit."

" Have a nice day, Mrs. Santos," James returned, deliberately ignoring the slight on him, his native country, and the British in general. Ten minutes later, Michelle and Tony stomped out again.

_Stupid Brit indeed, _Anne snapped. He wondered if it was her pregnancy that was making her temper so unpleasant. _If I hadv'e been there..._

_What do you care?_ he asked. _You've always thought of yourself as a Frenchie, remember?_

_No one insults you and gets away with it, not while I'm around,_ Anne insisted.

_That's just it, love. You _aren't_ around._

" What was that all about?" Leslie asked a few minutes after the Santos' stormed out.

" You tell me," James said, helping himself to another cup of coffee.

Author's Note: Sorry about Danny and Marina's wedding not being very detailed-I'm no good at that mushy-gushy stuff. I'll re-write if the request is made, though. A note to my reviewer: Nothing wrong with being nit-picky. I can hardly blame you-I wrote half the chapters of Company at one in the morning if not at an even stranger hour. Thanks for your suggestions, and do check out the first chapter of Three Decembers ,a Dynasty story aboutRemus and Elizabeth, and tell me if the story's worth going on with.In Chapter Thirteen, James finds some school memorabilia and Anne has her baby, making her a little crazier than she was to start with.

Augusta


	13. Illusions

Disclaimer: If it can be traced back to any world in print or on screen, it does not belong to me.

**Chapter Thirteen: Illusions**

James felt strangely weary as he climbed the stairs to his room that night. It confused him a little, as he had been accustomed to not finding his bed until improbable sounding hours if he found it at all during the War. Not continuously fighting seemed to be softening him, which was hardly a good thing. He'd seen too many good wizards and witches get soft and get killed when the fighting lulled for a while. Harry had bought them time, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this was just another lull, not long in its duration and as dangerous as a battle in itself.

_Bloody hell! _Anne snapped. _You're not over here, so what's it to you if this is just a lull? _She went quiet for a minute. _Sorry. I'm the worst-tempered shrew in the world when I'm pregnant, just ask Pierre. He'd be happy to tell you all about the time I tried to kill him_before_ the little girl-I still can't remember her name-was born. _

_It's all right,_ he reassured her. _And Pierre wouldn't be very happy to see me, as I'd kill him for half of what you've told me._

_I mean so much to you?_ There was an edge of humor to her tone.

_As you're the last thing from home I have, yes. Nothing personal, you'll understand._

_Of course not. Nothing's personal for us, is it?_ She didn't seem to be joking anymore. She sounded almost like a lonely girl, lost in the dark.

_You miss him, don't you? _he asked. Anne didn't have to ask who 'him' was.

_Yes,_ she said in a low voice. _I do. Maybe it's just that this baby's coming soon, or maybe I'm growing a woman's heart in my old age, but I do. Promise you won't laugh if I tell you something?_

_Promise, sis. I won't laugh at you._

_Sometimes, I'll be lying awake at night and I'll think that maybe-just maybe, mind you-I actually loved Sirius, at least a little. I'm not fond of loving anyone too much._

_Poor Annamaria.None ofthe men in your life ever seem to do anything but cause you more heartache._

_You can say that again. I'm swearing off all men except you, and I'm stuck with you in my head or I'd probably swear you off too. Men only cause trouble. Oh, botheration. All I'm doing is making myself sadder and ruining your evening, too. I'm shutting up and stopping thinking now. Good night. _Anne retreated.

If he hadn't been so tierd, James would have laughed at the bitter humor of the situation. Anne, the Hogwarts Whore, swearing off men? Anne loving one, even a little? What Sirius wouldn't have given to have heard her say that. Anne was a woman who inspired strong reactions in people. Anyone who knew Anne couldn't be neutral-they loved her or they hated her. Sirius Black had been her lover for years before he actually married her and had been married to her for years more. He certainly known her, and he'd confessed to his brother-in-law while drunk that he'd chosen the former option, but that Anne wasn't to know it-she'd destroy any man she knew she had that kind of hold on, wasn't James living proof?

James shook his head a little. It didn't matter now. Azkaban would destroy Sirius far more effectively than Anne ever could have. What had happened to them? How had it gone so far? He was here, Anne was there, Sirius was in Azkaban. They three who'd had the world-how had they lost it?

There were no answers in life, just illusions. What had the Egyptians called it? The Veil of Isis, that was it. He vaguely remembered learning that in a sixth year History of Magic class. In Egyptian religion, the Veil of Isis hid reality because mortals could not bear to see it-they could only see illusions, for reality would make them run mad in the best case senario. It was a pagan concept, but very near the truth. Answers to all the tough questions couldn't be learned until death took you. Death in itself really was an interesting concept, when one thought about it. Who really knew what was on the other side? He firmly believed in Heaven and Hell, but as to which one he'd end up in or what either was truly like he didn't know. Anne did have one point, though. Thinking while trying to go to sleep wasn't the best idea in the world. Between thinking and sleeping, he'd take sleep.

* * *

It was the next morning while going through his things in search of something, he would never remember what later, that he found an untidy stack of parchments tied together with a purloined hair ribbon of Anne's in the bottom of his trunk. On the front was a hand-done drawing of the Hogwarts crest. What on earth...he untied the ribbon and lifted the cover sheet. His own handwriting, even worse at the time than it was now, covered the page in more-or-less straight lines.

_Due to our months of not-so-tedious research-_ here an even untider handwriting in the margins said _For once!_ with an arrow pointing to the words 'not-so-tedious'- _we four, being the most famous pranksters in Hogwarts history if we do say so ourselves, have discovered just about everything there is to know about this castle and its grounds. We know all the back ways out-_ a slightly neater hand said in the closest margin _and secret ways in_- _that we have decided to make a map detailing Hogwarts school. Deciding this is the easy part. Doing it is the hard part. _A fourth handwriting said, _so speaks the genius._ James's own scrawl beneath it said, _shut up, Peter. _The even sloppier hand said, _Yeah, do, Pete. I'm the genius!_ The narrative resumed its flow. _For future generations of troublemakers after we are dead, as we do not wish to put up with the kind of mayhem we cause from our kids, these papers will tell how we did it-including how many detentions we got in the process. At the present moment, the numbers for our school careers are: 1036, 1038, 885, and 724. _The sloppy hand- Sirius's, if James remembered correctly-had inserted another note with an arrow pointing to the second number. _Make it 1043. Hopwillis gave me a week's worth this morning in Care of Magical Creatures. How was I supposed to know that setting off fireworks in front of a hippogriff make it go bonkers? _Beneath all the writing and marginal notes there were four signatures-the four Marauders.

He flipped through the parchments. A day-by-day record of the making of the Marauder's Map, spanning the very end of their fifth year through the first two weeks of their seventh. It caused him a faint nostalgic pride to think that no other students could have or would have done it, not with all the difficulty and occasional danger from charms that didn't work quite like they were supposed to. It had taken months of research and all Remus's artistic abilities-he had been surprisingly good with pen and ink-to put together the Map. On the last day of their seventh year, they had let Filch confiscate it. It had been painful, but it was the only way to ensure that the Map would stay where it was needed-at Hogwarts, where some other daring young prankster or pranksters could someday steal it back and put it to use again.

_Anne, _he said, half-laughing at the memories. _You'll never believe what I just found, apart from that ribbon of yours that went missing. _There was no reply. _Anne? _Nothing. She was definitely alive-he could still tell that much-but she had walled herself off, as if she was on one side of a frosted glass window. The impressions he got were of annoyance and sometimes pain, and the pain only brought more annoyance. What was up with her? As if aware that he could get some vague idea of her state, she reinforced the barrier still further, but not before saying in a quick, breathless-sounding way, _I'm all right-don't worry. I have to do something-I'll be back later._ It was certainly strange, but she hadn't sounded like she was lying and he'd long since learned that all one could do was let Anne make her own mistakes and trust her judgement when it came to her own neck.

It was a matter of four hours later when, quite suddenly, he became aware that she was in a great deal of pain, then something-a kind of defiant triumph similar to her outbursts against the dementors when she had been in Azkaban. _Well, there's that done, _she said crossly, sounding exhausted.

_There's what done?_

_I had the baby, _she said. _I thought I'd be a considerate sister for a change and not make you have to know what labor's like a second time. It's not so bad, really. Getting hit with the Cruciatus Curse is a lot more painful, at least when you're like me. Lutie says I have a baby with no more fuss than a cat slinging a litter! _She giggled. Lutie was a cross between housekeeper and nursemaid, half house-elf and half goblin, and had owned the Potters more than they owned her. She had been the terror of three generations of Potter children, and she had grumbled continually about Lily not being a lady because she took care of Harry herself instead of giving him to Lutie to be raised 'as be proper for a lil master'. _Another girl. Lizzy and Lutie can take care of her, I suppose. So long as she's not under my feet, I don't really care one way or the other about her. _Not for the first time, he was struck by the contrast between Lily and Morgan and Anne when it came to babies. Lily literally gave up everything for hers, Morgan had doted on Arthur for the little while he lived, and Anne was very possibly the most unfeeling mother James had ever encountered. Even her mother-in-law had felt something for her children, even if it was hatred for one of them. Anne simply couldn't care less about either of hers. Better not to point that out to her, though.

_What're you going to call her?_ he asked instead.

_Charlotte Anne, _she replied, and he could almost see her grin wickedly. _I got the idea from you letting Lily name Harry for her father and you. I adapted the idea to naming Charlotte-that's what we'll call her, it's too confusing to have two Annes and I'm certainly not going to go by Josepha- for Sirius's mother and me. The Old Lady won't be happy, but I might care more about my babies than I do about her opinion of me. _Her tone warmed very slightly. _She's a pretty little thing-the baby, that is, not the Old Lady. Got more of her pa in her than she does of me, though she did get the Potter nose and my eyes. Charlotte'll be a proper little heartbreaker, just like her mummy, eh? _She seemed to be laughing. _Yes, she and little Catherine Lupin will make each other's fortunes. They've both got the best of both parent's looks, and with their genes from us-what won't they become, them and their cousin Harry, too. They'll make _our _fortunes, too, dear._

_Ah, so that's it,_ he teased her. _I was wondering if you hadn't gone sentimental over them._

_Never, _Anne said practically. _I worry about me and you and not anyone else. I might have carried Charlotte around for nine months, but I was carried around with you for nine long before that. Besides, don't you know me well enough by now to know that I don't attatch any weight to family sentiment? I'm all business._ There was a forlorn note to her words, but she'd put it off to childbed if he commented. _I've lost everything to this war. All that's left for me is ambition. _Quite abruptly, he wanted to hug her and tell her it would all be all right, something he could never distinctly recall wanting to do before, but even if that had been physically possible it would have meant getting slapped into next week. Anne might've very easily have liked Harry and Lily more than she liked for anyone to see her cry.

Author's Note: This was a hard one, especially portraying Anne's feelings about her children. She's a complicated person and not nearly as callous as she seems. She gets her own story soon, as soon as I get the permanent timeline worked out. I haven't decided whether or not she is Fleur Delacour's biological mother-will accept reader input on that one. In Chapter Fourteen, James and Dinah continue to bond.

Augusta


	14. The Lewis Family

Disclaimer: Nothing that can be traced to any world on air or in print is mine. Anything else is mine.

**Chapter Fourteen: The Lewis Family**

Life in Springfield went on so peacefully that James almost felt as if he were constantly waiting for something to shatter the quiet and plunge them all into turmoil. He had never gone anywhere where things didn't seem to start going wrong even if he wasn't involved, and Springfield was one of those towns that if it was a form of matter it would have been classified as highly conbustible. Springfield always had some scandal going, and James felt that this was the calm before the storm. It wouldn't be long before he learned how right he had been.

The trouble started the same week that Danny and Marina returned from their honeymoon in May. James and Dinah were having lunch at Company and minding their own business when a voice behind them said, " You!" The speaker was a female and sounded shocked. It was either one of the few women Death Eaters or some enemy of Dinah's, and enemies were the one thing that she had in excess. They both turned to see who had said it.

A dark eyed and blonde haired woman was staring at Dinah, her mouth open with shock. Dinah's face showed no comprehension. " I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are," she said, extending her hand. " I'm Dinah Marler."

The blonde backed away as if Dinah had offered her a striking cobra. " Yeah, you're Dinah Marler!" she spat. " You don't remember me? I'm Marah Lewis."

Dinah snapped her fingers as the memory hit her. " Oh, Marah! Hon, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. You were a lot younger when I left town, and you've been gone the whole time I've been back."

" Don't call me 'hon'!" Marah said shrilly, white with fury. " What are you doing out of prison?"

Dinah went very still. James knew that she had trouble dealing with any mention of prison or any kind of detainment, a phobia stemming from her years on the run. " Your Aunt Cassie finally saw that it had been an accident and I was released," she said finally. " I prefer not to talk about it, Marah."

" My Uncle Hart would have _preferred_ to stay alive for his wife and kid instead of getting shot, but that didn't keep him alive, did it, Dinah?" Marah shouted. Everyone in Company stared and Marina forgot to put down the coffeepot that she was pouring from until the overflow came down the counter and burned her arm. Dinah was so pale that James feared that she would faint.

" She said it was an accident," he interjected. " If the authorities and your aunt can accept it, then so should you, Miss Lewis." Marah switched her glare to him.

" Who're you, Dinah's latest victim?"

" This is James," Dinah said, shooting him a grateful look for buying her time to recover from Marah's outburst. " A very good friend of mine. Listen, it was all a long time ago, water under the bridge. Just let it go, Marah."

" Let it go." Marah said flatly. " My cousin R.J. will never know his father. Aunt Cassie's lost the first great love of her life. You expect me to just _let it go_?"

" Your Aunt Cassie's planning her third wedding," Dinah told her in a low, expressionless voice. "She's got three kids and a family, and I've got four people on God's earth who give a damn about me. I don't hate Cassie anymore. I don't hate the Lewises. I just want the chance to start over, Marah. That's all I ask. I want to be able to walk down a street or go shopping or have dinner or go to the powder room or whatever without worrying that some Lewis or Winslow is going to come up and start harrassing me. I want to start over and not screw it all up over this stupid war with Cassie again. I'm not asking you to invite me to a Lewis tea party or whatever you do, I just want to be left alone so I can stand a chance of being happy again." Although she didn't raise her voice, she sounded fierce as an Amazon by the time she finnished that speech. Without waiting for Marah to reply, she turned back to her Buzz Burger. Marah grabbed her by the shoulders and jerked her back around.

" You might have took Hart from Aunt Cassie," she hissed murderously, " but you're not taking Jeffrey from me, you got it?"

Dinah looked dumbfounded. " Jeffrey? What makes you think I'm going to take Jeffrey from you? How does a kid like you even _know_ Jeffrey?" Marah's eyes flashed at being called a kid.

" He was my lover before I left for Paris," Marah gritted out. " I come back, and I hear he's been sleeping with some slut, and then Aunt Cassie told me that the slut was you."

Dinah gave Marah her characteristic half-quizzical half-disdainful look. " For one thing, Cassie's the pot calling the kettle black if she calls anyone a slut. For a second thing, who I sleep with is none of your business. For a third thing, me and Jeffrey are over. I took all of his crap I was going to take months ago. If you have a rival for his affections, it's your precious Cassie. Have a nice day. " She turned back to her food again, and Marina helpfully called Marah over to catch up. " I hate the Lewises," she muttered once Marah was out of earshot. " They're all such self-righteous hypocrites-Reva jumped into the Country Club fountain and baptized herself the Slut of Springfield years and years ago, but you'll never hear a Lewis admit to it. No, they don't have any sins to hear them talk, but don't have anything to do with that Dinah Marler-she screwed her life up eight years ago with one stupid mistake and that means total damnation!" She made an expansive gesture with one hand. " Thanks for sticking up for me."

" No problem. You looked like you were going to pass out."

" I only pass out when I have miscarriages," Dinah said with a twist of her mouth. " Provided I even get pregnant in the first place. Being barren sucks, not that you'd know much about that."

" I know what it does to a woman. My wife had that-ah-difficulty, and it almost put her in the closed ward of the hospital a few times."

Everyone thinks I should be in the nut house," Dinah said glumly. " I'm surprised that no one's had me commited yet, with some of the stunts I've pulled. It was the obsession with Cassie...I still don't understand it. Why does she always win?" There was an edge of hysteria there, something he was all too familiar with from Anne. " Why does Cassie always win and I always lose? Why?" She looked like she was about to cry.

" You'll win someday," he reassured her. " Just remember that payback's hell. Every side has its day."

" How d'you know?" Dinah asked.

" I'm a psychic," he said dryly, not thinking about how close to the truth it was. She laughed unsteadily.

" Yeah right."

" It's expirience. Everybody wins some and loses some. My family history's proof. On top for about a hundred years, then down another hundred, and then up, then down, then up, now down again." He noticed the strange look Dinah was giving him. " What?"

" You know your family history for over a hundred years?"

" It's what rich Brits do with their time," he explained. " We make our kids memorize family history in case we ever make it into a history book."

" I'd never survive over there, then," Dinah said. " I know who my mother is and who my father is and my brother and my stepmother who happened to be Hart's sister are, and all the family history I know are the scandals those people have been in since I was born. " She took a sip of her drink and reverted back to the Lewises. " The worst part is that L.B. is one of _them_-the Lewises, that is."

" Who's L.B.?"

" It means Little Bill. He's my half-brother. We have the same mother. His father's Billy Lewis, co-owner of Lewis Construction. Mom was a little loose, you know. I've always called him Little Bill."

" I used to call my younger sister Elizabeth Little Lizzy. It drove her crazy."

" L.B. doesn't care too much-he's just grateful that I managed to come home and not get life in the slammer. Me and my sister-in-law Olivia get along really well-she did me a favor when I first came back before I was released. She found out about me by accident but she didn't hand me in, so I owe Liv one."

" Would you consider paying me back pretty soon?" They both looked up, startled. Olivia was standing there, looking unusually nervous. " Can I sit down?" she said abruptly.

" Sure," Dinah said, looking concerned. " What's the matter, Olivia?"

" I think I might have done something last night," she muttered. This wasn't like Olivia at all. " Phillip told me he was going to make sure I never saw Emma again, and- and I think I might have killed him."

Author's Note: Finally, the story has a real plot! It hit me out of the blue what it is that Company is about. The 'Who Shot Phillip' sub-plot that's coming up is very, very loosely based on the real GL 'Who Murdered Phillip' sub-plot right now, and the answer to the story riddle is not who I believe the show shooter to be. The main plot is a bizzare love situation straight out of soapland involving James, Dinah, Cassie, Edmund, Jeffrey,and Marah, all of whom we'll get to know a lot better. To my reviewer: I don't think it's your fault this story's gotten few reviews. A lot of your people in the HP section arekids who don't have a clue what Guiding Light is, meaning they're probably not going to read it.

Augusta


	15. Conspiracy Theories

Disclaimer: I only own Anne and the plot.

**Chapter Fifteen: Conspiray Theories**

James stared at Olivia in blank astonishment for a moment. Dinah's eyes were like sapphires in her pale face. " Dear God," she whispered. " You killed Phillip Spaulding."

" I don't know," Olivia mumbled, her hands jerking. " I went to the mansion to pick up Emma-it was Phillip's day with her. He was swaggering around the study with his nose in the air and he's saying that I'd better enjoy my time with my baby because I didn't have much longer with her. He said he was going to prove in court that I'm not fit to be a mother and then I remember attacking him-I was trying to claw his eyes out-and I know I had a gun in my purse. I don't know if I did it or not, Dinah, I don't know-"

" Calm down," James told her. "What's the next thing you remember, Olivia?"

" I remember sitting in my car-I was all out of breath and shaking and I was starting to feel some bruises from fighing with Phillip. I heard sirens, and the ambulance came-Alexandra was crying on the steps, Beth and Alan were running after the EMTs, and they were rolling a gurney along, there was blood-I don't know if he was dead." Her mascara was making dark circles around her eyes and trails down her cheeks as she tried and failed to keep from crying.

" Your hands," he said, trying to remember what he knew about guns. " Was there any black powder-a residue-curse American dialects-on them?"

" I-I don't remember seeing any-"

" Good. Dinah?" This was like the old days-this was just another strategy council, and Dinah and Olivia were just two other generals.

" Does Bill know?" Dinah asked,staring rather fixedly at nothing.

" No. I didn't tell him. I'm sure I didn't do that."

" What do we do now?" Dinah said, looking at James. He found it rather amusing that Olivia had come to Dinah with her problem and she was passing it to him to take care of.

" It's up to Olivia at this point," he said, lowering his voice so there was no chance anyone but them heard him. " Do you want to involve the authorities or do you want to keep this quiet?"

" No cops."

" All right, then. You need an alibi." He bit his lip. "All right. The first thing you need to do is go home and tell Bill the truth. We're lucky-we have a little time. If we're very, very lucky he'll remember his attacker and it won't be Olivia. If not, then we'll need this time while he's out to formulate the best cover we can for Liv. Worst case senario-" he broke off, unwilling to voice it.

" What?" Dinah asked. " What's the worst case senario?"

" Worst case senario, he had Alan or Alex or maybe even Beth shoot him in such a way that it wouldn't be fatal and plans to say that Olivia attempted to murder him."

" You don't think so?"

" I could believe it," Olivia said savagely. " He hates me enough to take that chance."

Dinah looked at them. " And if he dies?"

" All the better. We have a saying back home-corpses tell no cradle stories. I don't know what you lot call it." The actual saying was 'corpses tell no cauldron tales', but they wouldn't understand that at all.

" James!" Dinah sounded a little shocked and a little approving. " The saying's dead men tell no tales here, by the way," she added.

" Thanks. I know it sounds more or less heartless, but it's true."

" The only way I'd feel safe around Phillip is if he were dead and I saw him cremated-saw his body go to ash in the fire," Olivia said grimly. " Too many people come back if they're buried. " She must have registered his startled look, because she laughed. " The dead returning is very common here." Her gray eyes met his. "Why're you helping me?" she asked simply.

" I've been there," he said just as simply. " I've stood in your shoes, and Dinah's, and not that long ago. I had the perfect alibi in my wife, who was a ninny and believed any and everything I ever told her. You don't have the advantage of being married to an idiot, and I have a bit of a soft spot for damsels in distress."

Dinah laughed. " You think Liv's a damsel in distress?"

" It's the polite way of saying it, Dinah."

" This one's always polite," Dinah said, gesturing to James. " Sometimes I wonder if I'm not involved with an actor."

" Wish Bill was," Olivia said. " Did you hear him at Danny and Marina's wedding? 'Livvie, you're drunk as a fiddler's bitch.' That's love."

" That's what comes from being one of our kind," Dinah said with a shrug. " Women with a past. We get men with pasts like James or what the nice girls leave over like Bill."

" Can we get back to business?" James interrupted.

_Spoken like a true Wright,_ Anne interjected. _Only one of us could call covering up the murder of a man by his least favorite ex business._ He ignored her.

It didn't take long to work out an alibi. Olivia and Bill had both been with James and Dinah the whole time. The details couldn't be determined until Olivia remembered what time everything had happened and they found out where Bill had been, but it was a start, and that was the best that they could ask for.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, he made his way to the Country Club as a guest of Alexandra Spaulding. He had called the baroness after the council with Dinah and Olivia and asked her to name a time and place that they could meet. She had selected the Country Club, a place Dinah had told him held special significance for Phillip, as he'd trashed it on his close friend and ex-wife Mindy's eighteenth birthday when he found out that Alan had bought him on the black market from Ross Marler's brother and the brother's lover Jackie so that Alan's wife at the time, Elizabeth, wouldn't lose her sanity after a stillbirth. Elizabeth had died thinking Phillip was her son, and Phillip had reacted to the news badly, culminating his teenage rebellion by marrying Beth Raines against Alan's wishes. Ironic that Alan had come to think of Beth as his daughter and had practically dragged Phillip to the altar to remarry her the third time.

Alex looked distraught. He decided to get straight to the point. " I hear that Phillip was shot last night."

Her head jerked up, and she looked slightly frightened. " How?"

He repressed a smile. " I live at Company, Alex. Nothing happens in this town that I don't know. All the nurses from Cedars come in for lunch, and they talk. I have a personal interest in the Spauldings, as I'm your guest so often. Even if that weren't so, it's in the paper." He threw a copy of the _Springfield Times_ on the table between them. Alex paled noticably. " Any word on his condition?"

" The doctors say he'll be all right," she managed. " He's still unconscious."

" I'm glad to hear that Phillip's going to pull through," he said, tit-for-tat. "Are the police speculating on who would have tried to kill Phillip?"

" Darling, someone like Phillip always has enemies," Alex said, her hint of an accent coming through. " There are many guesses. Even the family will be interrogated, if I know Frank. He doesn't trust Spauldings, not even me." She managed to look puzzled. Speaking from expirience, James could see why Frank wouldn't like Alex even if his family and hers weren't enemies. No son halfway loyal to his mother liked his father's mistress. That Nadine Cooper had been dead for years was trivial.

" I see." Alexandra dropped the fork she had been twirling with a clatter just as the waiter came up and couldn't stop himself from staring a little at such an uncharacteristic gesture. James held his peace until the waiter was gone again, and then it was Alex, obviously trying to gain control of the situation, who spoke first.

" I only agreed to leave the hospital for this because I wish to ask you a question," she said with a semblance of her old composure. James quickly destroyed her wavering authority before it could assert itself.

" If you want to know if I pulled the trigger," he said very quietly, " I will tell you directly instead of talking around it. I didn't, and I have witnesses to the fact that I was nowhere near the Spaulding mansion yesterday."

" That wasn't my question," Alex blustered. " You and that Dinah Marler-Ross's daughter-are as publicly lovers as me and Buzz." James didn't bother to correct her; one just doesn't tell a baroness who one has and has not been sleeping with, and having her think that he and Dinah were closer than they were could be used to their advantage. " She has a reputation for not being exactly...stable, and almost everyone has something against my family. Where was _she _last night?"

James looked her straight in the eye. " With me. Dinah did not shoot Phillip." Alex blushed redder than a Weasley's hair at the implications of that. She was almost hypocritically prudish for a woman so notorious for her extramarital affairs.

" Well-that's good to know," Alex stuttered. " Two fewer suspects for us to consider-the Spauldings will punish them our way, of course, not just the judicial way, it's family policy. You do understand that?"

" I know all about that. My family is very like yours, Alex."

" Yes, of course." Alex swallowed half the wine in her glass at one go. " Is news of Phillip's condition all you wanted?"

They kept up a much more proper conversation for fifteen more minutes, then Alex, much more composed, left. As soon as he was sure she was gone, he went to the phone and called Dinah.

" Hello?" He could hear Bill and Olivia in the background.

" It's me," he said. " I've just been talking to Alex Spaulding."

There was a pause. " And?" He barely heard her over the line. Good thing Lily had taught him how to use this thing.

" Remember the worst case senario I told you about?"

" Yeah."

" I'll need to look into it more closely, but I think that's what we have on our hands."

There was another pause, then Dinah quietly voiced his feelings with a single word. " Shit."

Author's Note: chapter sixteen is half through and undergoing editing to make it worth reading. I will try to have it up by Sunday night, as weekends are the only time I have to write anymore, for the most part. Classes are back in session. I'll probably wrap up the Phillip subplot in three to five more chapters-it's a bit difficult to write, as I'm trying to avoid mirroring the plot of the show. The real plot gets underway in Chapter Sixteen. A threat from an old nemesis drives Dinah to James for protection and a new rival is plotting to undo them both. Anne has devastating news.

Augusta


	16. Threats and Enemies

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you can trace to somewhere else.

**Chapter Sixteen: Threats and Enemies**

Springfield became focused on the question of who shot Phillip, debating it endlessly over their morning coffee or their evening Buzz Burgers at Company. Phillip was released from Cedars Hospital inside three weeks, but he claimed he had no memory of what had happened the night he was shot. This complicated things for James and his circle, as it was the one piece of evidence that didn't point straight towards the worst case senario situation. James found a new theory forming on the edges of his mind, that maybe a Spaulding really had tried to kill Phillip and had wretched aim, that the attempt had been genuine. Family tensions and jealousy could reach that point, he knew. The only thing that unsettled him about the situation was that the evidence all seemed to point to Alex. He truly liked Alexandra Spaulding, but he knew himself well enough to know that he'd blackmail her as ruthlessly as he would anyone else.

He made his own effort to draw the suspicion away from himself by throwing himself into work. By an unspoken agreement, Anne worked as his mouthpiece on the Family Council, saying what he wanted her to say and running Wright Enterprises as he told her to. He kept up every appearance of being engrossed in the affairs of the Muggle smokescreen company that the third ever executive, Norlan Wright, had set up to gather in even more money. By a stroke of luck, all the department heads were violently antisocial wizards who Anne had 'forgotten' to tell that he was dead. He found himself able to make a pretty piece of money out of it, enough that if he'd cared to leave Company and buy a house he'd be able to. In the end, he decided that living at Company was much more convienient and that he was rather attatched to the place. Strange as it sounded, the restraunt-boardinghouse was home.

Everything seemed to be as much under control as he could expect under the circumstances. It wouldn't be long before he found out just how mistaken he had been.

It was only chance that he was where he happened to be when it all happened. It had been early in the morning, too early for many customers, when he got up and started downstairs. He froze when he heard voices on the landing. One was Dinah's, the other Jeffrey's. Dinah sounded angry.

"Let go of me," she said, trying to jerk her arm out of the man's grip. "Damn you."

" You're playing with fire and gasoline, _Dinah Darling_," Jeffrey said murderously. " Watch your step with me. Eddie boy might be trying to play it nice for Cassie, but I've got no reason not to make your life a living hell."

" You've done a good job of that ever since we met," Dinah snapped. " Let me go. You've got no right to hold me here and make me listen to this crap."

" You'd be surprised what I have the right to do," Jeffrey shot back. " I can arrest you right now for the attempted murder of Phillip Spaulding."

Even with his limited view James was able to see her blanch visibly. " I had nothing to do with that. I never went near the Spaulding place. Why would I?"

" You're a deranged psychopath, Dinah. Why do you do anything? Prove you weren't there."

" I've already given my excuse," Dinah said, sounding breathless. " I have someone to vouch for me."

" What? Your Brit boyfriend? If I swear I saw you slinking around the Spaulding place, who d'you think a judge would believe?"

" Where were _you_?" Dinah demanded. " How do I know you didn't shoot him yourself?"

" I have no reason-"

" Oh, yes you do! Phillip and Alan Spaulding control this town. That's must rub, being the highest ranking official after Daddy and not having any real power huh? Besides, I know what happened last month. Phillip threatened you. He said that he'd see to it that you lost everything that's important to you if you didn't back him up when he needed it. He's been blackmailing you for months because of your affair with that slut Cassie. Don't play the saint with me, Jeffrey. You've got every reason to want him dead."

" I've said it once and I'll say it again," Jeffrey said, twisting her arm. " Don't toy with me."

" I'm not toying with anyone. I'm just trying to survive, Jeffrey. You'd understand if it wasn't you I was blackmailing."

" Keep your mouth shut or you'll go down whether or not you did it," Jeffrey threatened, then left, leaving Dinah massaging her arm and scowling after him. James hurried to her. She jumped when she noticed him.

" What was that all about?" he asked. Dinah looked frightened still, and that was hardly normal for her.

" Jeffrey," she said shortly. " He thinks that he has something on me...that he has some kind of sick power over me. He doesn't, though. No man will ever have that kind of power over me, not ever. I'm Dinah Marler, not an extention of Jeffrey O'Neill or anyone else."

He scrutinized her face, taking in how much of that little speech was Dinah trying to decieve herself. He had an awful feeling that most of it was. Dinah was not a woman to take humiliation easily, and from what he knew of her relationship with Jeffrey, she had endured years of it before she finally told him where to go. It could have broken her, or at least made her so brittle that the tiniest bit of pressure would finish the job. " You're afraid to death of him, aren't you?"

" Yes," she said simply. " I'd be a fool not to be. He's held all the cards from the day that he pulled me out of that dungeon and made me impersonate Cassie. All I have on him is that he impersonated her dearly departed Richard and some other trivial things, like the Phillip affair. If Jeffrey took a whim, I could see the inside of a prison cell again." She shuddered violently. " I'll die first."

" He doesn't have anything solid tying you to Phillip," James told her. " I know enough about law to know that he can't hold you without evidence or reasonable suspicion."

" Not that," she said, waving it aside. " Cassie. She made it very clear that she has him wrapped around her little finger, at least where I'm concerned. She was kind enough to remind me that she gave me my freedom and she could take it away in a heartbeat. Jeffrey would help her, and I'd be on Death Row for shooting Hart and running from the law for so long. " Dinah took on a stubborn expression. " I don't owe her anything. She voided the debt when she tried to kill me at Laurel Falls the same day she set me free."

" You're not going to end up in prison, even if I have to push Cassie off a cliff and frame Jeffrey," he promised her, only half-joking about the pushing Cassie off a cliff part. She smiled very faintly.

" Thanks."

" Don't mention it. I owed you one for keeping quiet about why I left England."

* * *

He was going over company expenses the next day when Dinah came in, her skills as Jeffrey's Public Representative having been required for once. The usual way it worked was that Dinah never did anything and Jeffrey gave her a paycheck every week regardless, as she was guaranteed a set amount a week. James noticed at once that she looked angry. " I hate the Lewises," she muttered, sitting down.

" I seem to recall you saying that before," he commented, inviting her to go on.

" Put it this way: I hate Lewis women, and Marah especially."

" What happened?"

" She cornered me at work and told me all about how her and Jeffrey were lovers again and how she'd-" Dinah broke off, pressing her lips together hard.

" How she'd what?"

" How she'd kill me if I got in her way. She means to marry him and woe betide anyone who tries to stop her." She said all that in a rush, as if saying unpleasant things was like ripping off a bandage. " Stupid girl. Jeffrey might care for her, but he's obsessed with Cassie and he's not the marrying type anyway. The only reason Jeffrey O'Neill would ever marry Marah Lewis would be if I got married, just so he could steal the show from me."

" How are things with Jeffrey and Marah? Not what they say, but what they do."

Dinah smiled grimly, obviously pleased. " A long way south of Heaven. He calls her sweetheart and love and darling to her face, but whenever she's not around he goes on fantasizing about her aunt. It's sick, but so is Jeffrey. He thinks about that one night in D.C. where he cheated on Marah and Cassie cheated on Edmund all the time. He tells me about it. I was his fake Cassie for so long that I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

" How exactly did you end up as his 'fake Cassie', anyway?"

" He needed someone to be the Princess Cassandra to his Prince Richard," she explained. "Someone who knew her, someone who could copy her tiniest habit. He had two options: he could either use me, offering me the chance to set myself up in Europe while American authorities quietly overlooked me, or he could find a woman of good enough rank that he could insert her into the Princess's household, putting his plan back by years, maybe. I don't know even now what the plan was, but he had already been Richard's double for years." She laughed softly. " It's twisted. Sometimes Richard would become the tough FBI agent and Jeffrey would become the Prince, accent and all. I know for a fact that Cassie never realized that the man she was sleeping with wasn't always her husband, and it serves her right if she ever does find out." She looked faintly puzzled for a moment, then apologetic. " I'm not a very good conversationalist, am I?"

" No worse than any other woman I've ever talked at length with," he said easily. " Besides, what you know is useful."

Dinah's eyebrows went up. " Useful?"

" Useful," he repeated. " I've got a feeling that all the dirt in that pretty head of yours is going to come in handy a lot sooner than either of us would like."

" Most bad things do happen a lot sooner than anyone would like them to, " Dinah said with a shrug. Her face hardened with determination. " One last thing on the Lewises, though. If that Marah thinks she's going to pull a fast one on me, then I'll take her down before she knows what's happening to her." There was a pause after that, the pause that always follows a declaration of total war, and then the conversation turned to a less provocative topic than Lewises.

Author's Note: Sorry for the lack of Anne's news-it didn't fit here, so I moved it to a later chapter.My profile's been altered again, adding some new summaries and modifying others. Includes a summary to the sequel to Company, a story I think will be...interesting. I've decided to make Company its own series, culminating when Harry meets Springfield, post-Hogwarts. Things get a little out-of-hand when he meets his stepmother and Ron starts hitting on his half-sister.

A reply to my reviewer: James has actually been in contact with other magical persons, though he doesn't know it. Reva and Olivia and Lizzie Spauldingare witches and Jonathan Randall, Reva's son who turned up at Danny and Marina's wedding but was never seen directly, is a wizard. They just keep a very, very low profile. I chose them because of past storylines and probability. As for Anne, the whole authoral reason for her and James's link is to keep a clear connection between James and England. Anne herself is my mutation of Anne Boleyn, though she won't be beheaded any time soon. Asfor your opinion of Three Decembers, I keep forgetting to findyour profile and e-mail you, so feel free to just drop me a line to abuse itor praise it frankly.

Augusta


	17. Welcome Visit, Unwelcome News

Disclaimer: I only own whatever cannot be traced to any other world that can be consumed by the general public.

**Chapter Seventeen: Welcome Visitor, Unwelcome News**

Spring slowly melted into summer. The seasons were different and the weather drier in Springfield than they had been in Britain, bringing back memories of his childhood in Italy. Although a Scots-Englishman, all his happy recollections went back to Fata Avallona, the villa of Morgana le Fay in the Straits of Messina, where he had been raised. He wondered what had become of the old place since he left it for the last time. _Probably abandoned and falling in on itself even as I think,_ he thought regretfully.

_The same with Aunt Marguerite's chateau, _Anne said wistfully. _I wasn't like you-I couldn't go back to my English roots. I always will think of myself as French._

_Why don't you go back to France, then?_

There was a long hesitation, as if Anne wasn't quite sure if she really wanted to answer the question. _Too much has changed,_ she said finally. _Have you ever stopped and thought about the fact that almost all of our generation is gone? The war killed so many-too many. There's only a handful from our time left._

_Me, you, Remus, Elizabeth, I suppose one could count Sirius, even in his present state, Snape, Mary, not many others that I knew. _

_One less than your count._ Anne's 'voice' was heavy with sorrow.

_What is it? What's happened now? God, I thought it was over, at least for a while!_

_Elizabeth's gone._ Anne said it with a stark simplicity that defied denial.

Elizabeth...his little sister. Little Lizzy, with her optimistic outlook and kindly ways. It seemed incomprehensible that she should be dead. _Oh, God, no. Not Isabella._

_I found out this morning at work. _Anne sounded muffled, as if trying not to cry. _Frank told me. _

_Frank?_

_Frank Longbottom. You know Frank, don't you?_

James tried to arrange his thoughts into some kind of comprehensive order. Frank Longbottom...yes, he remembered the man. Serious, not the most outgoing fellow in the world, and willing to sacrifice anything if it would lead to the Aurors winning the war. He and his wife Alice were dear friends of Anne's, and he had known them through the Order-Frank and his angelic Alice, so different from her husband that it seemed incomprehendable that they loved each other they way they did. Their son Neville was the only other person the prophecy Dumbledore believed referred to Harry could be applied to. _What did Frank say?_

_When I came back to work, Barty Crouch told me that I'd been fired-the Aurors didn't trust me anymore-and put me doing paperwork in an office. _Anne clearly resented that more than she mourned for their sister; she had always loved her work with a passion that surprised most people. _I'm about to die of boredom doing that when this morning Frank comes in and says, 'Anne, I know you said you didn't want to have to see any of us, but I thought it'd be best if you heard it from someone you know' at the same time I said, 'Frank, you don't have to tell me why I was fired, I understand'. Turns out Barty told them I resigned._

_Can you get to the point, Anne?_

_Hush. I have to tell the story in the right order. Frank told me the truth, that I hadn't been fired, and offered me my job back. I took it, and then he told me. Yesterday, Remus showed up. Said Elizabeth hadn't been there when he woke up and little Regina said that she thought she saw Elizabeth leave before the sun came up. Naturally, it had to be looking into-no one can forget that Elizabeth and I are Potter girls no matter who we married- and they managed to track her to what's left of Glenmore, but then she just disappeared without a trace. I was one of the Aurors they sent to her last known location. There was no body, but-oh, God! _She broke off with a strangled sob. _Blood everywhere-scraps of her cloak-auras of dark magic so heavy in the air you could almost smell it. She's dead. _

_Dear God. Will they never be satisified, these Death Eaters? How much will it take? How many-_ he broke off, unable to complete the thought.

_Liz is-was-our sister. You're famous, I'm an Auror and a damn good one. They thought she knew something...something about their master. I know how these people think, James. I lived with some of them for seven years, and you don't share space with people that long without getting an idea of how their heads work. It makes me sick, to think people from my own House would believe this madness is honoring our codes. What did Elizabeth ever do to any of them? She minded her own business and tried to keep herself and her children out of this conflict, tried to keep some scraps of our world as it used to be, and this is her reward-being murdered and not even having a proper grave! How am I supposed to tell her kids that Mummy's not coming home again? How d'you explain to a five-year-old, a three-year-old, and an infant what death is? Remus can't-he's a mess, wandering around looking lost. How do I always get landed with these things? _He could tell that she was crying, sobbing wildly wherever she was. Elizabeth and Anne had been rivals to the end, but they had also been the dearest of friends-why, it had been Anne who persuaded their grandfather to allow Elizabeth back into the fold after her marriage to Remus! No one else had spoken up for Isabella, but Annamaria had, insisting that the other Potter girl was still exactly that no matter how stupid she was.

_Anna...it is the will of God. There is no point in railing against it._

_I can already hear you telling me to pray on it, so don't bother, _she snapped back. _Religion can't comfort me- I want revenge. This is too much! Our whole family's been torn apart, and I won't bear it anymore! If I end up executed, then so be it._

_And if they throw you back in Azkaban? _James demanded. Anne went totally silent, so much so that he was unaware of her at all for a moment. It was horribly like he was alone in his own head for the first time in his life. Still, he had to do whatever he could to keep her from doing something truly foolhardy. Anne was a passionate, cautionless woman when provoked, but the memory of her spell in prison should be enough to sober even her.

_I would throw myself off a cliff before I would go back to Azkaban, _Anne whispered. _I could not survive it again, darling._

_Then don't go do something stupid and giving Barty Crouch a reason to arrest you._

_You're too practical. Where are you?_

_In front of Company. Why? _Anne didn't answer.

He found himself feeling the most bizzare thing he had ever felt in his life. Everything seemed to be disconnected at some point and turned on its head, but that wasn't the proper way to describe it. It only lasted a moment, and when it ended he was reeling around like a drunkard, trying to regain his balance. From the bushes, he heard someone cursing fluently in French. Anne stumbled towards him, straightening her black mourning dress-a much more flattering one than what she had worn to his funeral. Even if he had really been dead, Anne was not one to put up with clothes that didn't make use of her natural advantages over other women. It was very obvious that she had been crying. Unthinkingly, he offered her a handkerchief. " You never do have a handkerchief at any crisis of your life, Annamaria," he heard himself say.

She pushed her long hair out of her face. " Never try to Apparate across the Atlantic Ocean," she returned. " It's not fun."

" I noticed." He had arrived by island hopping to avoid that lengthy trip. A moment later she was crying on his shoulder. He heard footsteps, and over Anne's head saw Dinah. Anne looked up.

" This isn't what it looks like," Anne said, as if she knew who Dinah was without being told. _Of course she does, idiot! _he berated himself. The shock of Elizabeth's death was causing him to ignore the most mercifully simple things. " I'm Anne Black-his sister." Dinah seemed to relax immediately. He could read her like a book: if Anne was his sister, then she wasn't a threat. She smiled.

" James has told me a lot about you, but he forgot-" that said with a look that implied a blessing out at the first opporotunity- " to mention that you were coming."

Anne returned the smile with a wavering one of her own. " He didn't know I was coming. I just came, and it never occured to me to-call." She stumbled a very little bit over the Muggle word, but if they were lucky Dinah either didn't hear or thought the British used a different term. " You are Dinah, aren't you?"

" That would be me. What brings you to Springfield?"

Anne turned her head away and pressed her lips together hard for a moment, collecting herself. " I came to tell James something," she said finally. " Our sister Elizabeth is dead." Dinah's eyes widened with shock.

" Oh, I'm so sorry..." she made a futile gesture, as if not quite sure what to say or do. James put one hand on her shoulder and the other on Anne's.

" Elizabeth was a good woman," he said. " A saint, compared to us." Anne laughed unsteadily.

" Isebelle...she was such a nice little thing, so motherly, so kind." Her French accent was coming through unusually strong as it always did when she was upset or being particuarly seductive. He was fairly sure that she wasn't trying to seduce anyone, meaning that she must be geniunely saddened by Elizabeth's murder. " I remember her reciting her Latin lessons when we were little-d'you remember that, James? Isebelle was always serious, studious, the tutor-ah, he loved her. You and I were mavericks...not so diligent. She was held up as an example for us, but we could not let our little sister lead us, could we? _Non! _" Anne laughed again, a little wildly. He silently leant her support-the bond between them was even stronger so close-to keep her from going into one of her spells right there. Dinah patted her arm.

" It's awful that the two of you are only able to see each other again like this," she said vehemently. Dinah felt very strongly about family ties, probably because of the highly unstable nature of her own. She had often talked of her desire to spend more time with her father, Ross Marler, but was prevented by his wife, Blake, who hated Dinah even more passionately than Cassie Winslow did.

Anne buried her face in James's handkerchief for a moment. " Pathetic, aren't we?"

" Just unlucky." The two women had obviously connected at once, just as he predicted.

" I'm going to go to church," he told them. " What're you two going to be about?"

" I would like to get to know you better, Dinah," Anne said graciously. James repressed a start. Dinah had made an even better impression than he had thought for Anne with all her French coldness to say that so quickly.

" I'd like that," Dinah said. " How about we go inside and have a Buzz Burger?"

Anne looked confused. " What's a Buzz Burger?"

Dinah laughed. " You'll find out soon enough." She steered Anne into Company, and James headed towards the chapel.

* * *

As a boy, James had occasionally gotten his mother and Mary Virgin mixed up. They were both kindly, dark, and wore blue, and that was enough to link them in the mind of a four-year-old being taught to adore the Blessed Virgin even as he adored his mother. Serena would have been horrified had she known that, though-adoration was for God and the Holy Saints, not a mere mortal. He hadn't seen much of her after his fifth birthday-he had been sent to Italy, and it wasn't often that she could come so far-but she'd been as good a mother as any when she was around. 

Now, however, he knew that the sad-eyed statue of blue-robed Mary was not of his mother, which was comforting in a way. He didn't like to think about her or the way she had ended. No Potter had died of natural causes for nineteen years at the time of her death, and it had been pure sentimental foolishness to imagine that she wouldn't meet a brutal and violent end just like all of them. She was somewhere in the Heaven she had talked about so often, finally getting to learn how to fly without a broom. If they had Quidditch teams in Heaven, then he had no doubt that Serena would be the happiest angel up there.

He wondered if Mary or Saint James bothered with the prayers heaped on them. Maybe they had some kind of system, selecting the ones they considered to be important and taking those before the Throne of God and ignoring the others. He was fairly sure that his patron and the Virgin were getting heartily sick of hearing from him, even if it was for Elizabeth's soul. Maybe he should try Saint Elizabeth or perhaps Saint Anne to see if they gave a better response, though it might offend Saint Anne, given her namesake's ways. The last thing he needed was for one of the saints to be angry with him, under the circumstances.

_Leave theology to the philosophers, _he told himself firmly. _You're here to pray for Elizabeth, not mull over whether or not prayers are heard. _

He repeated the rosary a few times, the Latin words bringing back more memories of Serena and old Father Edward, who had been his confessor from childhood and one of his earliest instructors. It had only been in recent years that he realized the only reason he had any religion at all before the tragedy of Morgan's death had actually been his love for his mother and Father Edward more than any real conviction. After Morgan died, though, there was no one on Earth to turn to and there was a certain solace in the familiar rituals.

The priest here, Danny's cousin Father Ray, came over and sat next to him. Ray was unusual in that, getting to know every member of the congregation personally and even leaving the confines of the church upon occasion. " A wonderful day in our Lord, isn't it?" he said.

" Indeed, Father."

" Anything in particular on your mind?" That was Ray's way of asking if you had come for confession.

" It's not my soul I'm praying for today, Father. I just found out my younger sister is dead."

Father Ray crossed himself. " Was she of the True Church?"

" Elizabeth was very devout."

" If that is so, then you can take comfort in the thought that she is in Heaven."

" Comforting to me and our sister Anne, maybe, but not to her husband and children. She had three, you know...the youngest not six months old, the eldest almost six years old. Anne says that her husband's out of touch with reality."

" I will pray for them," Ray promised. " There's nothing a little prayer and patience can't mend."

James repressed a bitter smile. " I hope you might be proved right, Father."

* * *

Anne and Dinah were talking and eating when he got back. They gave him identical smiles when he sat down. " One thing I can say for these Yanks," Anne said. " They have good food." 

" Have you tried coffee yet?"

Anne made a face. " Don't hold your breath waiting on me to. "

Dinah tucked her hair back. " You all right?"

" I'll survive. Ray says to be comforted by the thought that Lizzy's in Heaven."

" Where neither one of us will probably ever go," Anne finished for him. " Her good fortune-I doubt Liz would be so fond of her mansion in Paradise if she had to have us for neighbors in death as she did in life!" Her eyes were sparkling and she was flushed. To keep her from getting emotional, he quickly changed the subject.

" Has anything good been going on in your life since I've been gone?"

Anne's face lit up. " One good thing. I went on a visit to France."

" Why?"

" To see my girl. Her name's Fleur, by the way. She's almost four now-such a beautiful child! I never saw fairer, and I don't say that because she's mine. She looks exactly like our Grandmother Potter." James remembered their grandmother, tall, slender, and with the white-silver coloring of a veela. Little Fleur Delacour would be irresistable if she looked like Solenge and was like Anne. Anne herself was still talking. "I've been to see her every Wednesday for a month, now-her aunt says that it's always 'Maman this' and 'Maman that' nowadays. She's very clever-she can read French and she speaks French, English, and some Latin already."

" Her aunt?"

" Pierre and his fourth wife-Madeline's her name-don't like having 'Madame Anne's daughter' around them," Anne said matter-of-factly. " Pierre swears I'm no better than a common whore and he wants nothing to do with me and mine. Madeline made him go into therapy when she married him so he'd desistin his wife-beating, and since then hasn't had the gumption of a goose. Add in that she doesn't like me and Fleur is more beautiful than her brats, and the child's being raised by Pierre's sister Marie. I inquired very closely about her-Marie's a good woman. She'll take care of Fleur, and she doesn't mind that I want to know the girl or that I'm mentioned as Maman instead of _that woman_, as they call me."

" You have a daughter?" Dinah asked.

" Two daughters," Anne corrected. " Fleur Delacour and Charlotte Black. Fleur's father kept her away from me until now. Charlotte's a bit small to tell if she'll be as beautiful as her sister, but I suspect so, for all they had different fathers."

" Neither of them could ever hope to be more beautiful than their mother," James said gallantly, causing Anne to look at him like he'd run crazy. False modesty had been one of her more variable faults, sometimes there and sometimes not.

" How long will you be here in Springfield, Anne?" Dinah asked. Anne shrugged.

" Oh, a few days. I suppose I'll be camping out on your couch, James."

" Which translates from the ancient Woman Language to meaning _I _will be camping out on my couch," James returned. Even in the depths of sorrow he and Anne retained their wit, he had discovered over the years. It was easier not to let grief overwhelm him when he and his sister acted as if nothing was wrong. Anne raised her eyebrows.

" Of course it does, darling. I'm surprised that you've learned to translate our language already. Most men never do."

" Amen to that," Dinah said.

* * *

They kept company with Dinah and the occasional other Company regular until Dinah went home for the night, then they went up to his room, the one place they could think of that they could talk without there being any chance of being spied on, even by some normally harmless gossip who might hear something she shouldn't. 

" A pity we don't have real silver or wine," Anne murmured as she conjured up both items. " I don't like using magic on something as trivial as conjuring things." She sat down and poured for both of them. They drank a wordless toast, almost ritualistic in nature. It had been a long time since they did this, but it had also been a long time since they needed to feel even closer than usual just to carry on.

" So," James said at last. " The Unholy Trinity is now only the Unholy Duo, I suppose."

Anne released a long, uneven sigh. " It is always so. Little groups never hold together in times like these, brother. We were foolish to think that even this smallest of circles could remain unbroken." Her eyes filled with tears. " D'you know what my first reaction was when Frank told me that they believed she was dead?"

" What was it?" Their voices were barely above whispers.

" I remember thinking, 'if it had to be one of us, I'm glad it was her instead of me or James'. What kind of sister am I?"

James pressed her hand comfortingly. " If it is any consolation, I would have thought the same in your shoes. We have something that Elizabeth was never part of. "

" Yes," Anne said. " But I still miss her. She was maddening, but she was very good to both of us."

" I know." She stood and went to his side, putting her thin arms around his shoulders.

" You've got to stop blaming yourself," she said without heat. " There was nothing you could do for Liz, her less than the others you imagine are on your conscience. You weren't even in the country, James."

He tried to explain. " I should have been, Anne. I should have been there to protect her."

" No one could have," Anne insisted, anger still unusually lacking in her voice. " Elizabeth slipped out in the dead of the night and probably knew that she was going to her death when she went. Let it go."

" All right. I'll try. For you." James realized that he and Anne had pushed Elizabeth aside, were going to try to forget her like she never existed. They had been called heartless, but that wasn't it. They had just come to the conclusion that refusing to face the pain of loss was the only way to bear it. He didn't want to talk about Elizabeth anymore, lest he start thinking about it too much. " Have you heard anything about Harry?"

" No," Anne said bitterly. " I've been trying to get him back from Petunia, but Dumbledore always gets in my way. The boy's half Potter and should be raised as one of us, but you know the Dumbledores-Morgan was the only one of the lot with a scrap of family pride or notion of how such things work. He will not understand that Harry can never be who he was born to be if he isn't raised among his own sort-among other Potters. That's why I'm taking an interest in Fleur...so she'll know who she is. I don't feel any more for her than I would for a favorite niece."

" Maybe it's for the best," James said. " Our family can hardly offer a very happy childhood for anyone. Even if we could, Dumbledore would never let his newest pawn go. You and I, Annamaria, are nearly past our usefulness. You have been married twice and I am legally dead. He has only a very few schemes left for us. Our children, on the other hand...He thinks he knows what Harry's destiny is, and he will incorporate everyone else into that destiny."

" He knows nothing," Anne said, a little sharply. " They call your son the Boy Who Lived and hail him as a hero, but they and Dumbledore know nothing. I do not even have the Sight, and I have more idea of what the boy's true destiny is."

" I have Seen nothing," James told her. " Maybe it's how often I'm using another kind of psychic magic to communicate with you or maybe I've been away from Avalon too long, but I haven't had a proper vision since I came to Springfield."

" I'm almost glad," Anne admitted. She looked old, with harsh lines around her mouth and her fine bones seeming to rise through her pale skin. " If you haven't, then we don't have to know what's going to hit us next for a little longer, at least." There was no reply he could make to that, so he didn't even try.

Author's Note: The grammar in Dinah's speech and that of most other Springfielders is intentional. I just imagine how Gina Tognoni(Dinah, GL) or whatever other character would say something and that's how I write it. In any other places, it's due to the fact that I had a very bad sequence of English teachers who never bothered to teach me more than an ounce or two of grammar and mechanics. I'm self-taught, so forgive the errors.

Augusta.


	18. Meetings at Company

Author's Note: This chapter was a difficult one, and I include again that the person who shot Phillip in this story is not who I believe shot him on the show. I've decided to wrap up the Phillip storyline as quickly as possible, soI don't drag it out to the point where it becomes dull like on the show.

Augusta

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that can be traced to any world besides my own.

**Chapter Eighteen: Meetings at Company**

No one could have been more surprised than James when Alan Spaulding walked into Company the next morning. There was a murmur of surprise through the regulars at the sight of the Spaulding patriarch on Cooper territory, and Dinah's jaw dropped and she stopped dead to stare at him when she started through the door. In an even more shocking move, he called Buzz over to him and the two began to talk in whispers that were virtually impossible to discreetly eavesdrop on. A few minutes later, Billy and Josh Lewis came in and sidled over to them very casually, as if the heads of the Spaulding family, the Cooper family, and the Lewis family regularly got together for coffee and small talk. " Is the world ending?" Dinah asked, staring at the gaggle of men at the bar. " Add Daddy, Danny, Ed Bauer, and Edmund and you've got the top dog of every family worth mentioning in Springfield."

Anne frowned slightly. " The heads of all the families here don't meet to confer?"

" None of them get along too well, and Buzz and Alan's families have a so-called war going on," James explained. " I don't seem to recall ever seeing any of them together."

" Me either, and I've been here longer than you," Dinah said. " Do you think this has anything to do with Phillip?"

" Could be," James said. " It'd be just like Alan to accuse Buzz or something of the like, though I can't see what Billy and Josh have to do with it."

" Coming up with conspiracy theories again?" Anne asked with mock-weariness. " You've always been able to find a conspiracy in much anything, James."

" And how often have I been wrong?"

" Twice," Anne admitted. " Though I do doubt that every patriarch in this city conspired to try to send someone to the devil. This Phillip's the one in the suit's son, right? Alan?"

" That'd be him."

" If you want my opinion, I think Alan did it," Anne said, sounding bored. " The son was fancying himself the leader of the family and his pa wanted him out of the way."

" Too many chiefs and not enough Indians?" Dinah asked and was met by Anne's blank look. "Never mind."

" I won't," Anne promised. James couldn't repress a brief, ironic smile-they were three of a kind, and Anne had decided against forgetting Elizabeth-she would replace her instead. It seemed that Dinah had passed his sister's rather harsh exam and had been deemed worthy of filling Little Lizzy's shoes. Only one other person not of their own blood had ever earned Anne's stamp of approval, and that had been Morgan.

Maybe it was because he had buried himself in the company and amateur detective work and decidedly out-of-date dating skills, but it was no longer as painful to think about Morgan as it had been. He no longer wished he was dead when he remembered her, no longer fought a psychological battle with God and man over losing her. He would love her till he died, but she would not have in death the total dominance over his non-filial and fraternal affections that she had possessed in life.

_Introspection doesn't suit you,_ Anne remarked at almost the same time she said something to Dinah about the American girl with the green and purple hair who had just walked across the street. _Introspection can drive you to madness, and both of us are quite mad enough as it is. I've been in prison, and let me tell you that it's not a pleasant place. You've been in the nut house, and I'm guessing it wasn't a pleasant place either because they work the same. Someone else has the key to the room you're locked in and has totalitarian rule over you. I'm quite sure you don't want to go back to Switzerland._

_Well, at least Resa would be happy._

_No, she's quite convinced that you're dead, _Anne reassured him. _If she knew you were in the nut house for real, though, I'm sure she'd be tickled pink at the prospect of you rotting in a closed ward._

_What a wonderful, loving family we come from._

_Blessed, aren't we?_ The world might change, but Anne never did.

" Oh, look," Dinah said. " They're splitting up."

The four men at the bar all shook hands and began to go their separate ways. James noticed a calculating look on Dinah's face. " What is it?" he asked her.

" They're up to something," she said, half to herself. " The only question is _what?_"

" And _why?_ " Anne added grimly. So much like old times.

* * *

Anne stayed in Springfield for nearly a week, though she did Apparate home on a daily basis so Remus wouldn't think she'd run off into the wild blue yonder and dumped another kid on him in his state which, according to Anne, had not improved, as he was still wandering around at odd hours of the morning. Based on his memories of his old friend, James could quite believe it. Remus had really gotten in way over his head when he married the younger Potter girl, and Elizabeth's best efforts to shield him from the worst of it probably hadn't been enough to keep him from realizing the level of scheming, manipulation, and sheer madness that reigned in the Potter bloodline, an inheritance that, in all probability, awaited his three children because their mother had the wrong maiden name. Remus had been genuinely attatched to Elizabeth, and James suspected that he wouldn't have the ability to forget her or replace her so easily as her siblings. Still, as James was 'dead', the handling of Remus's midlife crisis fell to Anne, the most unlikely psychologist in the world. Anne knew little about how anyone's mind besides theirs worked and less interest in the subject.

" I'll keep in touch," she told him, managing to keep her face straight for Dinah's benefit. " Been nice meeting you, Dinah."

" And you," Dinah replied.

To James's surprise, the once-familiar feelings of desolation he had endured whenever he and Anne were separated as children were not present. He recalled her reactions to the most normal Springfield Muggle things and his own lack of reaction to her departure, and realized that he had changed more than he had thought. Anne was dearer to him than anyone in the world, but he had learned to live without her, just as he had learned to live without Morgan.

He had always been afast learner, and he had a feeling he believed to be connected to the Sight that had apparently abandoned him that all his old lessons were going to come back to haunt him, but that was there and then. James was quite sure he would be wiser to enjoy the here and now while he could than to worry about what the next issue was going to be.

* * *

The meeting of Buzz, Alan, Billy, and Josh turned out not to be a one-time thing. The four men gathered around the bar one morning a week and held a whispered conversation that usually ended quickly and left Alan looking unsettled, Buzz looking like he wished he had a loaded gun with him, Billy looking guilty, and Josh looking angry. By the fourth week, James and Dinah were convinced that it had something to do with the mess Phillip's shooting had made, but they didn't have proof or motive, only suspicions. Alex Spaulding took to hanging onto Buzz's arm every second he wasn't working like a plowhorse, dropping anything she picked up, and getting flustered if anyone spoke to her before she spoke to them.

" Is she trying to look like she's up to something?" Dinah asked rhetorically. " If she does, she could be a lot less silly about it. All you have to do is tell a Lewis and the whole town knows by sunset, believe me. If that wouldn't work for her, she can always hang a painted sign around her neck."

" Alex does seem to be digging herself in deeper with every day, doesn't she?"

But in spite of the mysterious councels and Alexandra's jumpiness, it was another two weeks before they had anything solid. Then one evening, Dinah called, sounding more exited than he had ever heard her sound.

" You are never going to believe this!" she said, sounding thunderstruck. " I was at Towers having a margarita with Daddy- Alan and Alex were talking- you are not going to _believe _this-I'll be there in fifteen minutes, this is something you'll have to hear to believe-"

" Calm down and tell me what the hell's up."

" I've just gotten rock-hard solid evidence that could be used in court to take down Alan and keep Liv out of the slammer," she said quickly. " I'll show you when I get there."

James made small talk with Marina, who had kept her job at Company for old times' sake, until Dinah came half-running in, hair flying. " Come here," she said, half-dragging him to a secluded corner of the restraunt. " I've got the proof we've been looking for. It all makes sense now!" She was glowing with triumph. " I told you I was at Towers and I heard Alan and Alex talking. What I didn't tell you was what I heard after Daddy left. Alan said that he tried to kill Phillip and he's blackmailing Alexandra so she'll cover for him and take the fall if the cops figure out that it was one of the family who did it."

" Dear God," James muttered, running his hand through his hair in a half-forgotten gesture from his school days. " Never underestimate Anne when she gets a hunch-but if you take that to the police Alan'll deny it. How're you going to prove it, Dinah? No offense, but even though Frank hates Alan, he's more likely to believe Alan than he is you."

Dinah smiled. " I know that," she said levelly. " I'm not an idiot-I'm willing to bet Alan would try to pin it on me if I took it to Frank without hard evidence, but I _do_ have hard evidence. You know how I'm Jeffrey's P.R. girl?" James nodded and she went on. " Well, that makes me a kind of reporter, doesn't it? Just agree with me. In any case, I have a little tape recorder with me most of the time, and when I heard them whispering, I just couldn't help myself. Listen to this." She pulled a small silver-colored device from her purse and hit a button. Alan's voice came out of it very quietly.

" Remember, Alexandra," the Spaulding patriarch said threateningly. " If blame for Phillip's shooting shifts from the ex-wives to a Spaulding, you are going down."

Alexandra spoke, sounding flustered. " Why would the blame shift from Olivia and Harley to you or me, Alan darling?"

" If you and Buzz Cooper get too friendly some night, Alexandra, and you tell him that I was the one who pulled the trigger, then there is going to be absoulte hell to pay." Alan's voice was flat and hard in a way that James thought had nothing to do with the tape.

" I would never do that, Alan," Alex protested. " You're my brother, we're Spauldings-we're loyal to our own."

" Gus is a Spaulding and he is loyal to the Coopers. Why should you be any different?"

" Gus wasn't raised a Spaulding, he doesn't realize fully what it is to _be_ a Spaulding," she said quickly. " You and I-we understand. Gus wouldn't keep it to himself that you shot Phillip, but I will."

" See to it that you do, or you will go down for attempted murder and the press will know everything I know about you."

" You don't need to blackmail me for me to keep my silence, Alan."

" Call it a precaution." Dinah hit the stop button and then the rewind button. For a long moment, she and James simply stared at each other.

" Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" James said at last.

A bit of a grin appeared on Dinah's face. " Aren't you having dinner with the Spauldings tomorrow evening?"

" I am. What do you say to using Alan's own words and tactics against him?"

" You're on," Dinah said, sounding twice as determined as usual. " He'll never see someone trying to blackmail _him_."

" 'Call it a precaution'", James mimicked, and Dinah laughed.


	19. A Deal With The Devil

Author's Note: This was a tricky chapter, but I think I executed it well. Thankfully, this wraps up the "who shot Phillip?" storyline quite effectively. Now if the show would just do the same...

Augusta

Disclaimer: It's on all the other chapters.

**Chapter Nineteen: A Deal With The Devil**

James saw the wheels begin to turn in Alan's head when Dinah walked into the Spaulding dining room with him, smiling as confidently as if she owned the place and everything in it. It was glaringly obvious that none of the Spauldings were exactly happy to have her under their sacred roof, but they certainly knew how imprudent it would be to kick the Mayor's daughter out. An extra chair was added to the table for her, and dinner with the Spauldings went on in its usual style, with all of them keeping totally within their role in the family: the neutral patriarch, the elegant but friendly old maid, the lovebirds in their own little world, the unobtrusive mother-in-law, the hostile son, the clueless little rich girl, and the sympathetic and ladylike mistress of the house. The only things that were different from the first time he had come here were the fact that the Spauldings, with the exception of Gus and Harley who were too absorbed in each other at dinner to notice much else unless someone spoke directly to them, treated him almost as if he were one of the gang and that Lizzie's boyfriend was now Coop, who she seemed much more keen on than she had been on that first one whose name James had never learned.

When Beth passed him the bouillabaisse, James turned to Alan and said, very casually," Might I have a word with you after dinner, Alan? Business." He had said the magic word. Alan Spaulding was a man who had thrown everything away for business more than once, losing love, family, and occasionally sanity in the pursuit of the true American dream: the almighty dollar.

" Certainly. What sort of business are we talking?"

" Intercompany relations."

" What sort of intercompany relations?" Phillip asked sharply.

" I have a proposal for Alan that could prove most...beneficial." Dinah's face was as empty as a lowcountry gambler's, and James knew she was fighting not to laugh right out loud. _Beneficial for us_, James thought, rectifying the half-lie._ Not so beneficial to you, Alan._

_You never cease to amaze, darling,_ Anne interjected lightly. _Lying well was the one useful trait our parents gave us, eh?_

_Right on the mark, sister. _

Alan looked politely interested when James met him in his study after dinner. James tried not to smile. He was going to enjoy himself with this.

" How may I help you?" Alan asked.

James stared at him for a moment and then, very deliberately, started laughing. " You're good, Alan. So good I never would have smoked you out on my own, and I'm one of the best at uncovering underhanded things there is, Alan." There was a flicker of something in Alan's eyes for a moment, and that served as yet another nail in the man's coffin as far as James was concerned.

" I beg your pardon" Alan said stiffly. " Everything at Spaulding Enterprises is on the up-and-up, I reassure you. What is this about?"

" Oh, maybe in the _company_ everything's legit, Alan, but not the _family_. I think you know what I'm talking about."

" I'm afraid I don't, though I'm beginning to think that a spell in Ravenwood might do you some good."

" That's your way, isn't it, Alan? Ship them off to the psycho ward you own to silence them, and if that doesn't work, well, a bullet will usually do the trick. Funny thing, though-neither one worked on Phillip."

" Are you accusing me-"

" No accusation, Alan. I'm telling you. I have proof that you tried to send your son to his other Father. "

" Preposterous!" Alan shouted, but his voice kept on without his mouth moving.

" ...Tell him that I was the one who pulled the trigger, there is going to be absolute hell to pay."

Alexandra's voice came next, though she wasn't in the room. " I would never do that, Alan. You're my brother, we're Spauldings-we're loyal to our own." Dinah came walking into the room, holding up her little tape recorder with her finger on the play button.

" I rest my case," James said with a faintly mocking bow to the Spaulding patriarch.

He was pleasantly surprised to see that Alan did not go to pieces at being uncovered. " Name your price," he said in a controlled voice, pulling out his checkbook. " This can be worked out."

Dinah gave her most carefully calculated manianical laugh. Alan shuddered slightly, but not so much that it would have been noticed had he not been looking for it. Alan Spaulding was a worthy opponent. " You think we can be bought _that_ easily, Alan?" she said contemptuosly, giving him a cutting look, as if he were an idiot. " What d'you think, James? Is anyone ever likely to get dirt this good on Alan Spaulding again?"

" I'd guess not," James said thoughtfully. " No, Alan, we'll be wanting more than money for our silence."

" Name your terms and we can discuss them."

" Discuss!" Dinah screeched, doing a stunning impersonation of madness. The stage had lost a great actress when Dinah Marler didn't go to Broadway or Hollywood. "We're the ones with the dirt, Alan. We're the ones who hold all the cards. Discuss! Oh my God, James, can you believe the nerve of this man? _Discuss!_"

" What do you want?" Alan snapped, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

" First of all," she said, switching from mananical to sweet as honey in the turn of an eyelash," you won't attempt to frame anyone for Phillip's shooting."

" Done," Alan barked.

" Second," James added," You are going to aid us whenever we ask it of you."

" Third," Dinah chipped in," You are going to respect my father and his authority and not try to undermine him at every opporotunity."

" We'll get back to you later if we happen to come up with any other terms," James finished.

" Take it or leave it,Spaulding," Dinah said, looking as hard as nails.

" Done." To his credit, Alan never flinched.

James smiled politely. " A real pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Spaulding. Shall we, Dinah"? They managed to control themselves until they reached Dinah's place on Fifth Street. Dinah closed the door, then turn to James, grinning.

" That-was-brilliant!" she shrieked, throwing her arms around him.

" No, that wasn't brilliant," he corrected her. " That was _bloody _brilliant!"

" I never thought I would actually get the chance to blackmail _Alan Spaulding,_" she said, awestruck. " I'm up there with Alexandra and Olivia now. I'm a somebody in this town."

" A somebody?"

" A person who's a public figure-not that I wasn't already, but someone who can blackmail Alan is a lot higher up than Dinah Marler, Slut of Springfield and Con Artist Extraordinare."

" I thought Reva was the self-proclaimed Slut of Springfield."

" Oh, she was twenty years ago, but she's a little out of date," Dinah said with her dazzling mountebank smile. " We young girls have to depose the old worn out matrons every so often."

" Don't let Reva hear you say that," James warned, thinking of the vivacious Lewis matriarch.

" Believe me, I won't. Reva hates me enough as it is, and I'm hoping to be an old worn out matron one day. It gets old, tripping up doctors in hospital beds and bartenders at J. Farley's." She did an awkward sort of twirl and landed on her couch. " Can you believe that we actually pulled this off?"

" No", James admitted. " I was thoroughly expecting things to go totally and completely wrong. "

" You and me both. Do not tell anyone this, but Alan Spaulding scares the shit out of me. He's scared me since I was a little kid. He was the great Alan Spaulding, maker of millions, terror of the town, CEO of Spaulding Enterprises, and I was just a kid being raised in a circus because my mother didn't know how to take care of me." There was a faint shadow of sadness in Dinah's eyes, a sadness he was familiar with from personal expirience, the sadness that came from having one's mother a very vague and slightly impersonal prescence in one's early life.

He heard himself ask her the question Reva Lewis had once asked him. " Do you ever dream about it?"

" Sometimes," she said with a wistful smile. " A lot of times. About that, and Hart and Jeffrey-those are the nightmares with those two in them, Hart covered in blood and telling me he hates me and Jeffrey telling me that I owe him my life and he can take it any time he wants and laughing- but I don't dream about them much anymore. About Mom and Daddy and L. B. and babies I might have had and you."

" Me?"

" Yeah. You're one of four people in this town who doesn't hate my guts. You're the only person in this town who actually likes me as is and isn't related to me by marriage. Do you ever dream about me?"

" Sometimes."

" What kinds of dreams?"

" Nice ones. I've had a few about Christmas Eve...a few very strange ones, one of which included you jumping on the bar at Towers and singing kareoke-"

" At _Towers_?" Dinah burst into laughter. " Maybe at J. Farley's I could see that-that's a low-rent bar on the rough side of Fifth Street-but _Towers?_ It's the fanciest restraunt in Springfield save the Country Club. Maybe not even excepting the Country Club!"

" I recall that Cassie Winslow was taunting you about something and you told her to kiss your ass and sing on the bar if she had any guts. Cassie wouldn't do it, but you jumped on the bar and started singing."

" What was I singing?"

What Dinah had been singing in his strange dream had been the Sorting Hat's song from the year James was sorted, but he seriously doubted that it would be wise to tell her that right now. " I'm not entirely sure. It was something strange-some sort of Halloween-sounding song."

" Double, double, toil and trouble," she trilled, her eyes alight with merriment.

" What do you dream?"

Dinah's face softened. " I don't remember all of them, but one of them stuck in particular.We were dancing in the snow...don't ask. I've always liked winter...call me morbid."

" I don't see anything morbid about it."

" A lot of people do. You know...everything looks dead during winter. A lot of things do die during winter. That's why I have such an affinity with it." Her face was impassive, but her eyes were desperate. " I'm so sick of being lonely, James. So damn tired of it. I've spent my whole life looking for something or someone who could stop me from being lonely...first it was Hart, but he never really loved me. The only reason he was going to marry me was because he got me pregnant. I lost the baby and lost him to Cassie. Then it was Jeffrey and the whole Princess Cassandra mess...I wanted what she had with Richard and her life, so I was willing to settle for Richard's double and a bottle of blonde hair dye to hold up the deception. Then Edmund came along...God, he was a mistake. He hated me outright, and he was as dangerous to play as I am. You can see that it went nowhere, as I'm with you instead of giving myself airs as Dinah Winslow, Princess of San Cristobel."

" Would you prefer to be Dinah Winslow?"

" No. I wouldn't be Dinah Winslow now if my life depended on it." She kissed him. " I'm not lonely anymore," she whispered, and he understood her perfectly.

" Neither am I," he replied, then kissed her back.

It was past nine the next morning before he made his way back to Company, and it was then that he knew what he had to to. Pretending would get him nowhere-he had seen the tragedy that came from building an imaginary heaven from watching the melodramas that he and Anne called marriages play out.

He was going to tell Dinah everything.


	20. The Witches of Springfield

Author's Note: Okay, dearest readers, here's the deal. This is the ending of the first document of Company. The second document has been started. I'm working on the chapters for stories that have been requested as quickly as I can without losing the quality of the stories, such as it is. Company here, which is one of my personal favorites if anyone is reading it, is a little less than half done by my estimations. Work might not be fast, but it will get done.

Augusta.

**Chapter Twenty: The Witches of Springfield**

There was, naturally, a hitch. Whenever he made grand and morally upright resolutions, it came to nothing in a piece of deeply depressing normality. He couldn't figure out how to explain his world to Dinah, how to break down the thousands of years of traditions and arts of a separate reality that existed side by side with hers. He could only see two possible outcomes: either she decided that he was raving mad and forged his signature on the check-in papers of the Ravenwood mental hospital or she gave vent to a full-scale temper tantrum and walked out on him. Both options were thoroughly depressing, but he felt he owed her the truth even if she didn't believe it.

Two days after he resolved to get everything out in the open, he found himself confronted by the one exclusive club in Springfield that he had never been able to determine the existence of.

He was sitting in Company mulling things over when Reva Lewis, the absolute last woman he expected to be very chatty with him because of his relationship with Dinah, came over and sat at his table. "I must admit that you had me fooled at first," she said, her voice only just above a whisper and even more friendly than normal. "I really did think that you were a Muggle."

It was several moments before he realized he was staring at her agape, certain that he hadn't just heard her, one of Springfield's most renowned matrons, use the word _Muggle._ "I beg your pardon?" he managed.

"Don't 'I beg your pardon' me, Jim Potter," she chided, still sounding in good humor. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Does the name Albus Dumbledore mean anything to you?"

"Yes," he said cautiously. "I met the man once in London at a social event hosted by my sister's in-laws, Reva. Bit of an odd sort- a scholar, as I recall."

"Uh-huh. He had you memorize that one too? Me and Albie have been friends for years, honey, and he gave me the scholar line when he thought he was fooling me with his Muggle act. It doesn't take a genius to tell that he's a pureblood, but it's harder with you. You're surprisingly good at the Muggle act. Are you a half-blood or a Muggleborn?"

"Pureblood, but my wife was Muggleborn," he said shortly, lowering her voice even further than she had hers. "How did you find out what I am, Reva?"

"For one thing, I couldn't get a reading on you," she replied serenely. "My psychic abilities started to fade a while back, but I can still do what I call reading people, or, to be more accurate, reading Muggles. It doesn't work very well on other witches or on wizards, and on someone who has the Sight, I can't get anything at all. That's part of it. Another part was that a new woman came into our circle last week and mentioned your name to us-she seemed surprised that you weren't at the meeting. Spoke with a British accent a little different than yours, somehow, so I suppose you two knew each other before you came here. She's not sure if she'll be staying in Springfield or not. The third and final part was that Albie told me flat-out about you-he said you had done your penance long enough, whatever that was supposed to mean. He also told me to tell you to remember Morgan." She shrugged. "He's an elusive man. As the leader of Springfield's only coven, I was just thrilled to hear that another of our kind had made it to the city-there are only nine of us in the coven now, ten counting you."

James thought for perhaps the millionth time about how much he would like to strangle Albus Dumbledore slowly, but he had a feeling that it wouldn't be wise to air such a view in front of Reva, not if she was close enough to the bastard to call him Albie. "Only ten in this whole city?" he asked skeptically. "You're sure on that one?"

"Well, ten from Springfield proper, not counting those who weren't invited or refused the invitation," Reva said, more prissily than he would have believed her capable of. "There's a community in the slums of Fifth Street- two tenament buildings full of old crones and hunchbacked warlocks, all practicing their form of the black arts by brewing potions and selling charms to drug dealers and murderers. There's a rumor that one old witch in the worst of the two tenaments acts as a sort of doctor. You have to be invited into our coven, and our standards are pretty tough." James wondered how Reva could so blatantly indulge in class snobbery with such a warm, friendly note in her voice. "The nine initiates at the moment are me, Olivia Lewis, Buzz Cooper, Harley Aitoro, Danny Santos, Marina Santos, Alexandra Spaulding, Edmund Winslow, and Beth Raines. We've got Tammy Winslow and Sandy Foster lined up to be initiated next year-they're a little too young for full membership just yet. As for you, we're letting you in at the next meeting, provided you accept the invitation." She paused there for his answer, but he could tell she felt that she knew what it would be.

"Where's your meeting place?" he asked. Reva smiled, but it wasn't a smile of triumph. It was a welcoming sort of smile, almost motherly, and he was struck again by how similar her smile was to his mother's.

"We move around, but the next meeting's in Danny and Marina's apartment the day after tomorrow at five," she said. "Hope you'll drop in."

"I'd be pleased to." She was about to leave when a thought hit him. "Reva, does Josh know about you?"

"Of course he does," she said immediately. "I told him as soon as he was properly awake after the first time we made love."

_Could've done without that detail, _James thought, but decided that he'd better not say it out loud. "How'd you get him to believe you?"

"Oh, it was easy," Reva said spiritedly. "I levitated him, turned him upside-down, and stuck his head in a bowl of wine. It made my point and convinced him that he was in love with a dangerous woman." She laughed. "Why do you ask?"

"Just idle curiosity," he replied, trying to imagine the storm Dinah would call up if he tried to dunk her into a bowl of anything.

"I've never thought curiosity was an idle thing," Reva said. "It's how you find things out. See you later." She left, walking as if she were still the Slut of Springfield in all her glory and making men look at her as if she still was just by the strength of her temporary conviction. James shook his head and laughed softly.

"What a woman," he said to nobody in particular.

* * *

He decided to hold off on telling Dinah the truth until after the meeting at the Santos place. James found it strangely ironic that most of the people he knew and had befriended-Danny, Marina, Beth, Alex, and Olivia for friends and the rest for friendly aquaintances-had been getting to know him and he them without any of them having any idea that they were of the same stock. A pity Dinah wasn't one of the secretive witches of Springfield; it would have made things a lot easier.

The meeting of the coven began almost like a social occasion, with the members, such as they were, standing around and chatting leisurely, holding their drinks. The main topic of discussion was whether or not a witch on Monterey Street named Anita Shrever should be invited to join. On one hand, Anita was a well-living, respectable woman with excellent potion-making skills, but on the other she wasn't from that narrow window of Springfield that everyone else came from and her family was one of the many nondescript, middle-class, boringly ordinary families in the city. The Shrevers were purebloods who had never done a single thing interesting in the Muggle world or the Wizarding world. To James's mild surprise, he was drawn into the conversations as if he had always been at these small, secret meetings.

It was thirty minutes after the meeting was officially called to order and the martinis passed out to supplement Anita Shrever conversations when a short woman bundled into her cloak rushed in, giving an appearance of being a little windswept, as if she had come from somewhere in a great hurry. Her hood moved as if she was looking around the room. James thought she froze like a rabbit when she was looking in his general direction, then she hurried away towards the opposite wall. He did a hasty head count and realized that whoever she was, she wasn't a member of this little country club. Maybe it was Anita Shrever herself, but he didn't think so. He had seen Anita in Company once or twice, and he was sure she was taller than this woman, not to mention that he didn't think Anita would have presumed to come to this meeting without being invited, and the talk about her convinced him that she had not been invited. He saw the woman put back her hood, revealing a head of black hair that looked very familiar, though he couldn't place her. Reva threw an arm around her.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to make it!" the Lewis matriarch said, her enthusiasm clearly amplified a little higher than was normal even for her by the alcohol she had consumed. "We would have all missed you, Elizabeth. We don't get many visitors." Reva took another swallow of her martini and snapped her fingers. "I just remembered, honey. Remember James you mentioned to us the other day? Well, we got him out here tonight, and I reckon you two'll want to catch back up-"

"Oh, no," the woman said, her very familiar voice sounding very alarmed. "No, Reva, we didn't part on good terms, I really don't think I should-"

But she was too late. "James, get over here!" Reva called. "The new girl who mentioned you the other day just got here. Come see if you two know each other!"

James didn't need to see the woman's face to know that he did know her-he knew her too well. The hair, the voice, the name-it was all a connected picture. If she hadn't spoken, he would have been in suspense a little longer, but he didn't blame her for trying to keep them from coming face-to-face, given that he was almost angry enough to hex her while he was still feeling unusually nice. He wasn't quite sure what he would do once she launched into her pious explinations and made him properly furious. She had pulled some damn interesting stunts before, but this was sicker than anything she had ever done. This was sicker than everything she had ever done before put together. He reached her just as she turned around to make a run for it, and he found himself staring, as he had known he would, straight into the startled dark eyes of his younger and presumed-dead sister, Elizabeth Lupin.

Second Author's Note: I know, typical soap opera moment, but I couldn't resist it. If you read this, then be ready to tune in for the next chapter, where James realizes that he doesn't know everything about his relationships with his sisters or even about his own life.

Augusta


End file.
